The Powers That Be
by Whigmus Lister
Summary: COMPLETE. A life altering experience challenges Batman and Superman to deal with possibilities and opportunities they never considered before. The rest of the League must judge for themselves the meaning of these occurrences.
1. Chapter 1: All Glory Is Fleeting

The Powers That Be

Summary: A life-altering experience challenges Batman to deal with possibilities and opportunities he never considered before. The rest of the League must judge for themselves the meaning of these occurrences.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

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Chapter 1: All Glory is Fleeting

'_Damn it, Clark!' _The Dark Knight cursed under his breath.

Streaking through the sky faster than sound, the pilot of the mystifying black jet fought hard to maintain control of the craft and keep his wits at the same time. The hull was penetrated. He was loosing fuel and trailing smoke. Lights flashed and sirens blared all around the cockpit. At this speed, ejection would be next to suicide, but he had few other choices.

The g-forces exerted on his chest by the corkscrew trajectory made it hard to talk, hard to think. Fighting hard against the controls, one hand fumbled its way through the shaking cockpit to the ejection seat lever. The consoles before him were rattling and flashing incomprehensibly. He couldn't focus on any of his indications. The horizon through the cracked Plexiglas canopy was spinning at a sickening rate and he fought hard against vertigo to control his craft and arrest his descent. He was losing that fight.

'_J'onn, can we risk a teleport?'_ he mentally projected to his colleague aboard the orbiting Watchtower.

'_I don't think we can,'_ the Martian replied within his head. _'You're moving too fast. The system can't get a lock on you at that speed. Can you slow down?'_

'_If I could slow down,'_ Batman's exhausted brain thought, _'I would have _done so_ by now and _ejected!'

The battle that raged on was well behind him now, over the horizon. His colleagues would surely finish the battle without him. The League would win the day, but it seems that only six of them would be around for the victory. Their adversaries were potent, there was no doubt about that, and injuries were sure to be suffered by at least _some _of the heroes. But a fatality… that wasn't something that was even remotely in his head when the fighting began.

Dozens of military-grade airborne automatons, armed and utterly dangerous, had been hijacked by some unknown hacker group. That was the official line from LuthorCorp, the manufacturer of the devices. Within an hour of the hijacking, the press liaisons for the company had issued statements that clearly were drafted to illustrate their innocents and that they were doing everything in their power to help local authorities rectify the situation. Conveniently, the command codes and manual override equipment that could have been used to instantly defuse the situation were missing.

Designed for aerial combat as well as long-range bombing and precision targeting, the robots were heavily armored and well programmed to evade and destroy any perceived or programmed threat. The defense contract had specifically been written to include only the kinds of technology consistent with countless LuthorCorp patents, making it virtually impossible for any other defense contractor to build them to spec. Effectively, LuthorCorp was destined to build these devices and thus, the company had the liberty to implement many unusual systems.

When the CEO of Wayne Enterprises had learned of the development of such devices as well as the exclusive contract for LuthorCorp, he had kept a close eye on their progress. Sources and spies kept a constant stream of information about the project flowing into the corporate offices and Bruce Wayne made sure that the pertinent data also found its way to the powerful computers of the Batcave and the Watchtower.

Many of the devices, weapons and systems that were built into the robots were commonplace for military-grade equipment. Armor and armor-piercing projectiles were nothing out of the ordinary for such military products. Even advanced, state-of-the-art electromagnetic pulse generators had their place in combat weaponry. But when different quantities and grades of a strange material labeled "K-stone" showed up on some inventory sheets, Bruce Wayne contacted Batman, who infiltrated some LuthorCorp databases and deciphered the true nature of that material.

Of course, the elusive description of K-stone turned out to be Kryptonite. LuthorCorp had secured many varying types of the substance, mostly green, but red and blue were also used in minute quantities. When this precious tid-bit of information was 'leaked' to the press, a persistent little sparkplug of a reporter from the Daily Planet cornered some high-ranking officials at LuthorCorp about its use. Their canned response citing random molecular properties and the way the substance was supposedly used for tracking systems and protective shielding seemed to placate most of the average reporters. Lois Lane, however was not an average reporter. She kept digging.

Naturally, the Justice League was keeping a close eye on the transport and delivery of the first batch of these fully functional Automated/Controlled Combat or Reconnaissance Devices (ACCORDS). Lex Luthor was conveniently engaged in a high-profile business meeting in Tokyo (which Batman had described as an alibi) when an unidentified group of armed mercenaries attacked the convoy, activated the ACCORDS and programmed them for their own goals. Nearly half of the ACCORDS were aligned in a coordinated attack on a Federal Reserve building outside of Metropolis. The rest were guarding the attack or, in a few cases, programmed to cause peripheral damage to other buildings and areas in order to keep the local authorities and emergency responders busy. However when destruction and mayhem commenced, the Justice League was ready.

The battle began within minutes of the when the first rogue ACCORD attack took place. The plot against the Federal Reserve was quickly foiled and the mercenary group was forced to reprogram their hijacked weapons to attack the heroes directly. The armed hijackers were also prepared to wage their own attacks on the ground using conventional weapons against unarmed civilians. The two-front battle (one in the air with the ACCORDS, one on the ground with the gunmen) was one of the most spectacular battles caught by modern journalism. The feats of the League were captured for the world to see and every reporter worth their salt was trying to get as close to the action as possible.

Because of the danger of Kryptonite, Batman had all but commanded Superman to stay out of the battle. For the most part, he did, circling attentively around the engagement in an attempt to minimize collateral damage. He was even forbidden to attempt to take out the mercenaries on the ground for fear of exposure. Flash was more than enough of an opponent for the most part. He had disarmed most of the suspects and captured quite a few before too long. The rest of the League had a fair challenge taking care of the powerful airborne menace. Out of the 36 ACCORDS, 28 were summarily disabled or destroyed. It was a tricky encounter and the League had to use a strong defensive stance and pick their offensive strikes carefully. However, thanks to the team effort and the coordination by Batman in his armored fighter, they were clearly winning the day. So far, none of them had anything more than detectable amounts of Kryptonite, but it didn't hurt to be careful.

For the most part, Superman's considerable talents weren't required. Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Hawk Girl and Batman were on the aerial assault, with support from Flash on the ground and Superman keeping a safe distance. The Batjet had taken minimal damage. Green Lantern was slightly injured but his ring still had plenty of energy. Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman were relatively unscathed. Flash was tired, but recovering with a smile in front of the press.

When a rogue ACCORD attacked a nearby school building, Superman and Flash came to the rescue. The ACCORD was destroyed, but the school was on fire and there were children trapped. Superman was able to put out the fire while Flash ensured the safety of all the occupants of the damaged building. Upon resuming his vigilant orbit, Superman immediately found Hawkgirl was unaware that she had been targeted by two of the remaining ACCORDS behind her.

Shouting for her attention as he blazed through the clear blue sky, Superman slammed one of the metal devices into the other and seemed to have saved his teammate. It was at that time that 3 more ACCORDS had appeared from seemingly nowhere. Tracking them through the monitors of his jet, Batman noticed there was something different about these devices. The added bulk to their frame made the airborne detective suspect something.

_Those devices were kept out of the battle until this time… for some reason, they hadn't engaged until now…Superman is engaged now… They've targeted Superman… those extra panels on those ACCORDS… Kryptonite! It's a TRAP!_

In a deadly move, Batman threw on the afterburners of his midnight jet and engaged Superman's adversaries. Missiles took out two, but the third evaded his attack and countered with a barrage of armor-piercing rounds. His starboard wing was clipped and part of the tail. The jet screamed out uncontrollably towards the horizon, trailing smoke in a barrel roll.

_'I told him to stay out of it!'_ Batman was seething as he fought the controls. He had long-since cut the engines and they were winding down, slowing the craft, but he was on a ballistic trajectory towards the open sea. Losing altitude quickly, still too fast to eject, he fought to cease the rolling and pull the nose of his aircraft up. Climbing would reduce velocity and afford him a safe escape. It was no use. The view out of his canopy alternated from the clear sky to the whitecaps on the gray and navy waves that blurred by as his jet rolled over and over. The altimeter spun mercilessly down towards zero and Batman's eventual violent demise.

As the great man grinded his teeth and strained his muscles against the controls, it seemed that he had to acknowledge the inevitable; he was going to die saving Superman. The flash of clarity and finality of it all raced through his brain in a split second. He was about to die and he'd leave behind slim remnants of a dysfunctional family, a legacy of pain and emotional impotence, and many more questions and painful resolutions to those that he dared care for. He thought that he had his life arranged – danger was always hand-in-hand with the mission. He had faced death before and he believed that he had planned for closure if that grim fate became reality. Now he wasn't so sure. Something nagged him that he could have done more… should have done more.

_This wasn't supposed to happen. We should have been able to take out those damn androids without a casualty. What did I do wrong? Why didn't Clark stay out of it? Why can't that stupid farm boy just do the smart thing instead of always trying to do the right thing? All those powers… I have none of those powers and I had to save him?! Dick wouldn't have to live with an unresolved conflict with his estranged, dead step-father. Tim would have a mentor to take him all the way to adulthood instead of one to bury. Diana… what could have been? No! This PROOVES that a relationship could end in nothing but pain… And Clark, damn it Clark. You shouldn't have to live with the guilt of me dying to save your sorry…_

With those final thoughts, Batman's body lurched forward against the five-point harness keeping his body securely in the pilot seat. His head snapped forward and his helmet cracked against the panels in front of him, wrenching his neck painfully. The violence of the severe momentum shift tossed his limbs around the tight cockpit, smashing his hands against the consoles. When it was over, he was inverted, able to sit up and take in all that was around him.

_That was no crash._

Looking up through the spider web lines of broken Plexiglas at the ocean waves just meters away from his face, Batman was quick to realize that his decent had been arrested and his life spared. Painfully turning his head as far as he could, he caught a glimpse of a golden shining line around the bulk of his jet, just in front of the fragmented tail. Slowly the craft was lifted into the air and turned over. The whine of the jets had all but died and when his gloved hand hit the master kill switch, all the electronic noise and flashing ceased. The dead calm of the aircraft was almost surreal as the plane rolled over to see the dark hero's savior.

"Hey," The smiling face of his beloved Diana spoke to him through smoky air.

The warm flush of relief and sudden halt of adrenaline made the would-be victim smile. For a brief and knowing second, the two locked eyes. To anybody else, it would seem that one hero had come to the aid of another in the heat of battle. To them, there was sweet significance in the rescue. Maybe she was just coming to a colleague's aid – maybe it was something a little more. He had claimed so many times before that favoritism wouldn't do in a skirmish, this time he didn't seem to mind so much. Regaining his mantle, Batman's face returned to stone.

"It's about time," he said mockingly.

"You're welcome," she said half to herself.

"Let's go," he commanded. "We've got work to do."

Smiling, understanding that little blurb was about as close as she was going to get to a "Thank you", Wonder Woman hoisted the jet into a more comfortable grip and she carried the smoking hulk to shore. Placing it gently on the asphalt of a parking lot near the scene of the battle, they were quickly joined by their victorious teammates.

"Are you alright?" Superman asked sincerely, putting his hand on Batman's shoulder. The look in his eyes betrayed the guilt and gratitude the massive hero felt. Whatever animosity Batman had felt before vanished in the face of honesty. How could anybody stay mad at Superman? He still wouldn't let it show, however.

"Fine."

"Luthor's going to have a lot of questions to answer before today is done," Lantern proclaimed for all.

"He won't be touched by this," Batman prophesied. "He's in Tokyo. The robots were clearly hi-jacked and reprogrammed by people outside of the military and LuthorCorp. This will slide off him like oil."

"What about the Kryptonite?" Flash injected. "How can he claim that he didn't have his sights on Superman when we confront him with the ones that had Kryptonite weapons?"

The electronic, crackling voice of J'onn J'onz answered for all through the com link; "He won't have to. The only traces of Kryptonite detected within your area are consistent with LuthorCorp's claim that the substance is used in small amounts for armor shielding and tracking devices. There is no evidence that any Kryptonite was included in the design to be used as a weapon."

The 6 heroes exchanged concerned and frustrated glances. Either they had misplaced their mistrust in Lex Luthor, or he had managed to cover his actions too well once again. Letting out a sigh, Superman took to the air.

"Let's go," he ordered. "We've got a lot of cleaning up to do."

After the wrecked shells of the ACCORDS were gathered and piled by the half dozen trucks of the original convoy, Superman and Batman stayed on sight to work with the authorities and military to complete the effort. Wonder Woman served as the official spokesperson for the League with the reporters and military officials. The others returned to the Watchtower to rest, recover or be reassigned.

The Press was being kept at bay by a military contingent as LuthorCorp scientists began inspecting the wreckages. Video cameras were whizzing away and camera flashes sparkled like glitter from behind the wall of soldiers. Every reporter was calling for their turn to ask their questions of Green Lantern, the LuthorCorp Press agent or the military liaison. One warm female voice called out to Superman. She had some topical questions that she could have asked Wonder Woman, but Lois was simply trying to get his attention. He gladly obliged with a smile and a sly wave.

Many of the suspects had escaped, and from the few that had been captured, precious little was learned. Contained in the back of the ACCORD transport trucks until proper police vehicles were available, Batman and Superman were interrogating the captives one by one. After some relatively unfruitful questioning, they had the 4th suspect bound in the back of one of the semi trailers. The man was silent as a tomb for a few minutes, then nothing but sarcasm left his mouth for a few minutes after that. Trying to up the ante, Batman had started using his glare a little more intensely and Superman continued his attempts to appeal to some hidden, underlying good within the criminal to come clean. They unintentionally played the "good cop / bad cop" routine so naturally and so well that it almost looked like they had rehearsed it.

After a near perfect verbal assault and a disturbingly detailed description of unworldly physical violence, Superman had to pull Batman away for a brief private conference. Because Batman's anger was still somewhat elevated, Superman was having a difficult time subduing his friend. Batman had just started to brush off the latest chastisement, when he turned to see that the suspect had freed himself from his improvised bonds.

Within seconds of this escape, the hijacker had opened a hidden compartment in the floor of the truck and produced a bulky weapon. Batman had enough time to unsheathe a bat-a-rang, but his line of fire was instantly blocked by the large red and blue mass of Superman. The leader of the Justice League had calmly placed himself between danger & his friend and steeled himself for whatever came out of that thing that was about to be fired. There was going to be no way in hell Batman would find himself in danger again on account of Superman. Taking a firm step forward, flexing his chest and bracing for impact, there was a ferocious blaze of light and the huge man felt incapacitating pain as his burning body flew limp and all but lifeless through the scorched trailer.

Helplessly, Batman was blasted out the doors by the impact of Superman's flying hulk. The brunt of the exposure to the pulse weapon was absorbed by the Kryptonian that landed on the Dark Knight, knocking the breath completely out of his chest. When Batman finally figured out how to inhale again he was rewarded with the stench of burning uniform, hair and flesh. With one free hand, he desperately tried to cover his mouth and nose with a corner of his cape that wasn't smoldering. He couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs to find the strength to twist his way out from under Clark's seemingly lifeless corpse. With what little he could muster, he managed to struggle to freedom.

Batman crawled a few feet to find some fresh air. Still down on all fours, head hanging, couching and gagging, eyes watering, he turned his head to register what had become of his colleague. A quick-thinking police officer had managed to get a fire extinguisher out of his squad car and put out the fire on Superman's chest and another had begun douse the burning semi trailer. Superman's exposed skin was charred and torn. Batman struggled, coughing, to his friend's side once again, tears stinging his eyes and fluid running from his nose. He shouted at Superman to respond. In a vain search, his hand instinctively flew to his utility belt, but he didn't know what for. He had nothing stashed away to revive a fallen god.

Shouting and shaking Superman's body, Batman paused as he saw one of the most remarkable things he'd seen in his long years as a crime fighter. Right before his very eyes, the charred flesh on Superman's body began to heal. The flakey black layers of burned skin shed and blew away like autumn leaves in the breeze, exposing clean, soft flesh. The big man's eyelashes and eyebrows grew back within seconds. The fresh pink skin of his chest closed shut around the gaping wounds that just moments before shown unnaturally-colored muscled tissue and hot alien blood. It wasn't long before the stoic handsome face of his friend showed signs of life and contorted in pain. His eyes and mouth flew open in shock and surprise as he drew in an enormous breath. Coughing upon exhaling, he tried to cover his mouth.

_Damn near dies and he still has the manners to cover his mouth when he coughs!_

With a sigh, Superman focused his eyes and turned to Batman. Taking a second to recognize his friend, he managed a weak smile.

"You idiot," Batman said quietly. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Returning a favor," was the soft reply.

Superman breathed deeply a few more seconds, allowing his amazing physiology to completely regenerate. With his strength recovering, Batman was able to stand up and look around the scene. Whatever was left of the poor bastard that had fired that weapon was plastered like red and black stucco throughout the inside of the remaining portions of the trailer. He obviously had no idea what that weapon was or what it was supposed to do. What was even more noteworthy; whatever that weapon was, it was now in pieces strewn all across the parking lot.

"Well, I guess he won't be doing that again," Batman half smiled, turning back towards Superman. His half smile dropped into a stone cold look of horror. The scars on Superman's chest had stopped healing. Superman's wide eyes were glassy and rolling in search of sight, his breathing rough and labored.

"Superman!" Batman said dropping to his knee once again. Upon getting no signs of cognizance; "J'onn, Batman! Emergency teleport!"

In a rolling blue flash the two men were gone.


	2. Chapter 2: Recovery

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

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Chapter 2: Recovery

"Was it Kryptonite?"

Hawkgirl's question was the first of the meeting, the meeting without Superman. The leader of the Justice League lay comatose in the Watchtower infirmary for the past three days under every form of medical monitor available. His encounter with a strange, and now destroyed weapon had all but killed him on the spot. The remaining members of the League were in conference about what had happened to their friend and colleague. Batman was at the helm of the group during this meeting, despite his official classification as 'part-time' member.

"Partially," the Dark Knight responded analytically. "Based on residue samples taken at the scene and what was left of the weapon, it was a combination of two things, both of which were intended to incapacitate or kill Superman specifically."

"_Two_ things?" Flash asked with more than concern. "How many other things besides Kryptonite can hurt him?"

"Radiation from a red sun," said Batman. He had sleeplessly spearheaded the investigation into the incident for the past 3 days. It had seemed to Wonder Woman that he had taken it too personally, but she understood. If that weapon could do this to Superman, what would it have done to Batman? The recoil blast off Superman's chest alone had splattered the perpetrator all over the inside of the truck. There's no doubt that the Man of Steel had saved his friend's life. Unfortunately, it came nearly at the cost of his own.

"From what we can tell," Batman continued, "the weapon fired energy pulses of different forms of radiation in a repeating sequence. There first pulse was a LASER generated by a series of pure Kryptonite crystals. The second was a blast of gamma radiation in a particular frequency and energy level consistent with radiation from a red sun."

The technical jargon aside, it was understood that this weapon had one target in mind: Superman. Unfortunately for the man that fired it, it was never intended to be used in such close proximity, nor within a confined space like the back of a semi trailer. What was also unfortunate was that the weapon itself was destroyed and the Great Detective was working on theory that fit the facts, rather than on hard evidence.

LuthorCorp, the company that had designed and built the robotic devices (ACCORDS) that had started the whole battle seemed to come out of the affair squeaky-clean. The amount of Kryptonite (or K-stone as their inventory sheet called it) that they had procured for the project was completely accounted for within the wreckage of all the robots. There was no proof that they would have had enough Kryptonite to build that weapon. There was no proof that they had any ties to the people that hijacked the convoy that transported the ACCORDS. There was no proof that LuthorCorp had any hand in wrongdoing and even more removed was the CEO and President, Lex Luthor. He was safely removed from the project both literally and on paper; one of his Vice Presidents in charge of Military Product Development was the head of the ACCORD product line and Lex, himself was in Tokyo at the time of the battle.

However, many small tidbits of information led Batman further into suspicion about Luthor's involvement of the case. In fact, several key findings were uncovered by none other than Lois Lane, the distant object of Clark Kent's affection. It was of little consolation, but had he been inclined to humor, it would have made Batman smile to recognize that Lois, in her effort to uncover the truth about Luthor and help find out what happened to Superman, the object of _her_ affection, that she was actually helping the one that pined for _her_ from across the floor at the Daily Planet.

In any case, there was precious little left to move on. No arrests were made outside the few members of the mercenary team that hijacked the ACCORD convoy. There were no ties found between that group and any other person or persons. There was no connection between that strange weapon and any person, group or manufacturer. In fact, none of the other hijackers claimed to even know about the device. It seemed that all the secrets died when the one that fired it exploded in sickening totality.

For the past three days, Batman had been his quite, intense self, running down leads and trying to piece together the whole mystery. Taking it in steps, J'onn had helped him by keeping him informed of Superman's medical condition. This helped the two come up with ideas of what kind of exposure Superman had been subjected to. Batman also had Bruce Wayne and all his contacts and spies, keeping him informed of many goings on within LuthorCorp. Finally, Batman himself had been able to collect evidence at the scene of the incident and was trying to reverse-engineer the device that was used to attack his friend. True to form, Batman was doing what he does best and doing it better than anybody had ever seen him do it.

"Is it possible that the man that fired that weapon was the mastermind behind the whole operation?" Wonder Woman asked, obviously reaching for straws.

"I doubt it," Batman's countered. "He was a nobody. We don't know his true identity, but from the pieces we've gathered from the other suspects, he wasn't anybody of significance in any field other than conventional weapons and tactics. The only people that have the knowledge and ability to produce such a weapon are on a very short list, and we're watching them very, very closely right now."

The 6 members around the conference table sat in silence for a few seconds, contemplating their next move. Their official leader was in a coma, nobody could be held responsible for putting him there because the only suspect was being scrapped off a pile of wreckage by a haz-mat team. There was no closure, but nobody had many leads or plans except for when Batman called upon them.

"Unless there's anything else," Green Lantern said standing up, "We've got other jobs to do."

The pain was evident on his face, but his logic was unshakable. Silently, slowly, the other five members pushed back their chairs and left the conference room one by one.

Batman and the Martian Manhunter went directly to the infirmary to check on the progress – or lack thereof – of their friend. As J'onn inspected the medical devices Batman looked on from the observation area through the glass. He allowed himself a brief moment of rest from his break-neck pace. As he let out a sigh, he caught Diana's reflection as she entered the room and stood silently beside him, looking on.

"You're not responsible," She said quietly. She had been in the parking lot at the docks and seen the explosion too. Getting over the initial wave of awe, she felt the sinking feeling of dread when she realized that her friends were… that _he_ was... in that truck when it blew up. She had the presence of mind to protect the members of the press corps around her from the larger chunks of debris, and then had the opportunity to check on her colleagues. Upon seeing Batman stand up and Superman moving, she naturally assumed all was well. Her back was turned to the two when they had transported away, and when she realized what had happened, she was left there with more questions than she could answer.

Now, here in the observing room, Batman didn't move. She turned to face him and took his gloved hand. It was cold in her grasp. When he recoiled, she tightened her grip, not too much, but enough to let him know that she wasn't letting him slip out of this situation. With that little gesture, she was letting him know that he wasn't alone in this. She was reminding him that there was a whole team of the greatest powers in the world at his disposal, should he need them. She was letting him know that Diana was there for Bruce, should he need her. He allowed this and acknowledged by holding her hand in return.

"He'll be alright," She said looking back through the glass. She seemed to be trying to convince herself that was true as much as she was trying to comfort him.

In an unprecedented display of warmth and emotion, Bruce put a dark arm and cape around the shoulders of his sweet Diana. The significance of this one movement was not lost on the Amazon. She understood how much Batman disdained public displays of affection when he was in uniform. How many times had he shunned the possibility of a relationship with her? How many times had he been offered emotional support, not only from her but form all their allies? He had rejected every attempt of affection at every trying time. Not now. This time was different. This time he needed something, he needed her. This time, he lowered his shield and exposed his heart to her, if only for the briefest of moments. Such was her affect on him. He gave her a gentle squeeze as her arm slid around his waist under the cape and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"He _will_ be alright," he finally whispered. Then he turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

Lois Lane sat at her desk staring at her computer monitor, but not seeing it. She was contemplating the story she'd been assigned to write about the last time anybody had seen Superman down by the docks after the ACCORD incident. She had been there and saw the semi trailer explode and the two men blasted across the parking lot. Her mind was racked with worry for Superman, _her_ Superman. She was torn between her emotions for him and her gut as a reporter.

In the immediate days after the incident, she was in full reporter mode. It was just another explosion in her mind - like the hundreds that Superman had walked away from unharmed. She had already uncovered many secrets about LuthorCorp, the ACCORD project and Kryptonite. When, after a few days, all the other members of the Justice League besides Superman had been seen, she started to worry. The more she thought about it - Kryptonite, an emergency transport back to the Watchtower, witness claims of alarm in Batman's voice - the more she worried. Now she had to find out where he was and what (if anything) had really happened in that explosion.

No, Lois's mind wasn't on her work and she didn't see the blinking cursor before her. Nor did she hear her name called twice from her Editor in Chief from his open office door. The third time he bellowed out, she snapped to and swiveled abruptly in her chair.

"Yeah, Chief!" She blurted and headed towards Perry White's office.

Upon entering, Perry closed the door behind her. This was not a good sign. Normally, Perry told _her_ to close the door any time she stormed in for whatever got her dander up. This time, it seemed to Lois that there was something other than news on his mind. For Perry White to think about something other than the cover of the next edition of the Daily Planet, something extreme must be in the cards.

"Sit down, Lois," he recommended as he stepped around his desk and sat in his brown leather chair. Lois stayed on her feet.

After a second of eye lock, Perry laid it out before the young brunette.

"Kent's been in an accident. He's not doing so well."

"Oh, my God!" Lois slowly sank into a chair. It took her a couple of seconds to register how much that news affected her.

"I just got a call from his mother in Kansas," Perry continued. "He's in the hospital and can't receive any visitors. Lois, he's in a coma. They don't know when he'll come out of it or if he ever will."

Clark Kent, "Smallville" as she playfully called him, was a good friend, and in spite of her rejections to his occasional date propositions, she truly liked him. Up until that very second, she didn't realize how much he really meant to her. His quiet demeanor, his politeness… chivalry, if it still existed as such, was always charming to her in a quaint way. She even admitted he was cute at times. She never considered that he'd actually come to mean very much in her life.

However, now that she had been confronted with the news that he had nearly been taken away from her – and still may - Lois Lane had to admit to herself that maybe Smallville means more to her than an errand boy.

"What happened?" She asked softly, still staring blankly at nothing in front of her.

"Car accident late at night. I didn't get all the details," Perry said sadly. "The poor lady didn't want to talk very much. She's been through enough already."

"Where is he?" Lois's voice had gained more power. Lois Lane, Reporter, was back in the room again.

"Listen, don't you go bothering her," Perry White, Editor, was back as well. "I called you in here because I thought you should know, and I want you to take up the story on the Transportation Fund scandal that Kent was working on. Other than that, you leave Mrs. Kent alone! She said the doctors will be in contact with our insurance people and we'll be kept in the loop of his recovery…"

Recovery.

'_If he recovers'_ Lois thought. Her instinct, her determination to always find out the truth was driving at her, but she had to admit that Perry was right; now is not the time to bother poor Mrs. Kent. She had other ways of finding out. She had other sources. She'd get in to whatever hospital Clark was in and see him…

"Besides," Perry brought Lois out of her train of thought, "we've got a deadline to meet. What have you found out about Superman?"

Taking a second to mentally come back to Perry's office, "Not enough…" she trailed off.

"Well, get hot!"

With that, Lois went back to her desk. Now she had two men she…. cared for?… preoccupying her mind. Without even taking more time to consider why, she had resolved to find out the state of her friend, Clark and exactly what had happened to her Superman.

'_I can do this!'_

* * *

Wonder Woman found her way to the cafeteria to find John, Wally and Shayera talking over coffee. She wondered who was on monitor duty while she poured her own cup and joined them. As if she had asked;

"We're taking a break," Shayera informed her. "I've got the monitors on automatic alert. We were just talking about the League and how things might change… if…"

She didn't have to finish her thought. Everybody knew that the loss of Superman would impact the group immeasurably. They'd had a taste of that before, thanks to Toyman, and once was enough.

"Like I said, don't go holding auditions for a replacement just yet," John warned. "He's not dead – just out of commission for a while…"

"Yeah," Wally chimed in. "We don't want another Lobo incident."

The four teammates shared nods and chuckles about that memory. Their quiet conversation continued about the battle and the device that put Superman in the infirmary, comatose. J'onn had been able to contact him mentally, but only just. He reported that Superman's mind was 'tired' and he was having trouble staying mentally connected with him. But the fact that he didn't get any signs of irreversible damage was good. The thing they really had to concentrate on was fixing his body – something they'd never had to do before because his body always had the power to heal itself before anybody could even try.

Batman walked briskly into the cafeteria, interrupting the little social gathering. He stopped abruptly and looked at Hawkgirl.

"Auto alert," She plainly stated.

"Don't take too long," he advised as he stepped to the sink, removed a compartment from his utility belt and rinsed it under the tap. The whole group sat silently in his presence. Nobody knew what to say or do – he was in full 'Batman' mode; just stay out of his way and let him do his thing.

"J'onn says he's improving," He said finally.

"Oh?" Diana's curiosity and hopes were up.

"Since our meeting this morning, his vitals are better and his wounds have been healing."

The Kryptonite-generated LASER had obviously hurt Superman, but it was the fiery burst of red sun radiation that may have done long-term damage. His wounds were still healing, technically, but at a much slower rate than normal. In fact, if he hadn't been Kryptonian, J'onn would have said that his wounds were healing rather well.

"What about you?" Wally asked.

"What about me?"

"Well, there were three people in that truck. One is in a coma, the other turned into human oatmeal…"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" John asked. "With a weapon like that, there could be symptoms that don't show for a long time. With Superman out of action, we can't afford to loose another one of us."

Leave it to John to bring military efficiency and contingency planning into the picture. Batman should have protested. He had work to do. However, looking around at the faces staring back at him with concern, especially _hers_, he sighed and accepted their instruction. It's a tense time, he recognized. A little bending would go a long way to put people at ease – even himself, he had to admit.

"Fine," he spat, turning towards the door; "I'll have J'onn check me out after my watch this afternoon." And he was gone.

* * *

Batman cycled through the major global news outlets on the large screen in the monitor womb. His watch had thus far been uneventful and he'd been using the slow times to pour over information and data about Superman's condition. Days ago, he had begun reverse-engineering the weapon that had put his friend down so utterly. It would be some time before he could have any real results and even longer before he could attempt to rebuild a device (or a counter-device, if necessary or possible) and test his theories.

It had been a long, sleepless three days and he had been working relentlessly, obsessively. Alfred had summoned him twice in the past 12 hours about which excuses to offer Bruce Wayne's appointments for rescheduling, but the loyal butler's concern was evident. The real reason for the calls was to gently remind him to not work too hard. If he didn't get some rest, soon, he may start making mistakes mentally, not to mention physically. He didn't feel exhausted, but he knew his limitations. Too many things had happened in the past three days, he needed to get things back in order.

Batman had pulled more than his fair share of all-nighters in his time. The occasional 2 or 3-day stint was not unheard of. He had trained himself to handle these types of situations when they called for his particular brand of attention. His drive was more extreme this time. This time, there was scarce else he was seen doing. Nearly every second of the past 78 hours and 42 minutes had been devoted to the situation at hand. Nobody in the Bat Clan had ever seen him so devoted to a cause – and they'd seen him on many worth-while causes. What was more, nobody in the League had seen him in the Watchtower this often or working so diligently on any other case.

On one hand, it was impressive to see Batman fully submerged in a mission. Each member had been called upon for one thing or another. Lantern had connections and knowledge of military organizations and was able to lend some incite to the group of hijackers. Hawkgirl had sorted much of the data gathered from LuthorCorp to see if there was some kind of connection to the mercenary group. Flash had invaluable know-how in terms of coroner's reports and analysis of the 'suspect's' remains. Diana had her diplomatic skills in full swing, and was able to pin-point reporters that may have significant leads based on the types of questions they had been asking lately. J'onn, because of his ability to work almost indefinitely without sleep, had been able to help the most, keeping an eye on Superman and taking watch shifts for others when they were on their missions.

On the other hand, people were even more wary of Batman than they had been in the past. He was not known for his humor or anything that could be described as an easy-going attitude. But now, he was even more robotic. The only emotion he had displayed since the incident was impatience. While that kind of mindset was not unexpected, it did cause some to be a little worried. Those that were closest to Batman were seeing signs they had no name for in his words and actions.

"How are you?" Diana's voice sounded warmly from the door.

Batman turned from the monitors to see her, dressed casually in jeans and a loose sweatshirt and looking as beautiful as ever in spite of the worry on her face and the worry in her heart. To see her now was a comfort he needed, an inspiration to keep his spirits up. She looked like a warm blanket he wanted to wrap himself in and let his over-occupied mind forget about the past three days – if only for a moment. That kind of longing would not do right now.

_Damn._

"Fine."

His terse answer stung a little more than her expression betrayed. She wasn't too sure what to expect, alone with him. After their tender moment in the medical observatory, she half hoped that Bruce may have taken a step towards opening himself up a little more to her – even as Batman. She had hoped that he could slow down, if only for a while and recharge his spirit. She saw now that she may have been wrong. Then again it may just be that he's on monitor duty and is all business at the moment…

"It's been a slow day," he added after a brief pause.

That little addition to his monosyllabic first retort was a bright spot to her, and a conscious effort for him. Bruce, it seemed, had quieted Batman for a moment and let her know that the doors aren't locked, just closed for the time being. Her presence put him at ease and made him more tense at the same time in so many different ways.

"I thought you might like some company."

His silence was intended and received as consent… permission… invitation. Taking the seat to his right Diana looked hard at his profile. Her unwavering gaze made him uncomfortable. He had too much on his mind and as much as he loved the rolling in his stomach that her blue eyes have been known to cause, right now it was just another distraction.

"He's dong better," She said turning towards the consoles. "J'onn believes that there may be something still in his system that's prohibiting his regeneration."

"He's been giving me hourly updates," Batman deadpanned.

"And what about you?"

_Here we go again._

"What about me?"

"Bruce…"

The snap of his head was intended to remind her that Bruce wasn't here. She would have none of it. They were alone in the room. In fact only J'onn and Superman were left on the Watchtower. That didn't change the fact that he wasn't tolerating her attitude. She didn't care.

"Yes, I said _Bruce!_" She stared straight back at him. "You might be physically OK, you might not be. But I _know_ something is troubling you inside. You can deny it all you want, you are not fooling me. John is right, we cannot afford to lose another member, especially you."

"I told you before, I'm fine." He turned to her. Some how his voice wasn't as cold as it could be.

"You haven't had any sleep in 3 days. You've been working around the clock on research and you STILL went on patrol in Gotham last night."

That got his attention.

"I have my sources too," Diana confessed, crossing her arms.

Batman sat in silence scanning the different screens and readouts. The direct approach was not going to work on him, not when he was like this. There was something he was not saying and she was sure of it. There was something inside him that was troubling him and she was certain that it would tear him up if he didn't find relief. She, the Princess of Themiscyera, questioned by nobody but the Queen herself for centuries, was not used to having her motives called out, her will denied, her presence ignored. Here in the Watchtower, however, she was not superior, regardless of what personality quirks Hawkgirl moaned about. And here, _he_ was at least Wonder Woman's equal in stubbornness – if not her superior.

Wonder Woman was always known for her legendary strengths and abilities as well as her… appearance. What people sometimes forget about is the fact that she _is_ a warrior, cunning and quick. On top of that, she _is_ a woman, and all that implies…

Sitting side-by-side in silence for a few moments, she allowed the heated blood to cool and reassessed her approach. Sitting back and crossing her legs, she drummed her fingers on the arm of the swivel chair and bounced her foot in the air. After a moment, she was sure that he had seen her comfortable demeanor and calmed down as well. When he slouched to the side and rested his chin on his hand, she knew he was relaxed enough to approach him differently.

"What was it like?" she asked softly, cocking her head towards him.

"What was what like?"

"In that trailer… when that man fired that weapon," she had Batman's attention, "what was it like, being shot at by that weapon? What did that man say?"

Batman almost opened his mouth, cutting her off at the start. Bruce stopped him. Her voice, that look in her eyes, the way she smelled… _Damn it._ She brought out something in him that nobody else did - or could. Being Batman was so natural on the Watchtower - nobody has ever seen Bruce Wayne there. But alone with her, Batman, Bruce Wayne's tool for justice, was effectively sheathed. Bruce was with her now, talking to her, depending on her.

"Bright… hot," He started. "We were questioning him… I hadn't gotten much out of him… not even his name. Clark pulled me aside and tried to tell me to tone the threats down a little. When I looked over, he had that _thing._ Before I could disarm him, Clark stepped right into it… then…"

Bruce slumped back in his chair, his head fell back against the headrest. Letting out a sigh, his gloved hand pulled back the cowl and he rubbed his eyes. Diana turned towards him trying to show her understanding in her expression. That kind of self-exposure, for Bruce to show his face on the Watchtower, not to mention on duty in the monitor womb, was so out of place, it was almost alarming. Whatever was hiding under the surface Diana had managed to put him at ease enough to let it out. She knew that no other person on Earth, not Clark, not Dick, not even Alfred could do that to him. His expression as he looked at her told her that. Despite her concern, it still gave her a warm feeling.

"I asked him what the hell he was thinking," Bruce smiled. "Y'know what he said?"

Diana shook her head.

"He said he was returning a favor." He huffed out a grunt.

"Well, wasn't he?" Diana pried.

"Some times I wish I could take that dumb, magnificent farm boy and knock some sense into his thick skull!" Bruce sighed shaking his head slightly as he continued.

"Not half an hour before that I was cursing his name," Bruce turned to see compassion in her soft eyes. "I was heading out of control in my jet toward certain death and all I could think about was the people I'd leave behind…"

His pause and their eye contact gave Diana time to realize that she was included in that short list.

"… and that he wouldn't have to live with the guilt that _I_ had died saving _him._"

Sitting up and bowing his head slightly, "I never did thank you for that, by the way," he said slowly, sincerely through raised eyebrows. Diana smiled and put her hand over his on the console.

"You will never need to."

Bruce stood up and paced up and down the room. Sudden animation excited his arms, face and voice. The floodgates were open. He was _venting_. This was exactly what he needed to do, she was sure. Get it out in the open… release the pressure building inside. Opening up was significant enough for the situation. Opening up _to her_ was even more significant for the feelings that they'd both been acknowledging to themselves lately.

"Now, _I_ have to live with the fact that _he_ damn near died saving _me_."

Oh, the irony. Diana fought with every ounce of strength she could muster not to unleash on Bruce about how hypocritical he was being. Now she wanted to knock some sense into _his_ thick skull. But she knew she should just let him vent, he needed to let it out.

"That stupid, do-goody-good, I-can't-die… BOY SCOUT!" He shouted throwing a pointed finger towards the direction of the infirmary.

"Bruce," Diana started as she stood from her chair and stepped towards the seething man, "He is going to be fine. He's _alive _and he is going to be fine. You have nothing to be upset about."

"I have _everything_ to be upset about!" He said harshly, turning towards the huge glass pane showing the moonrise over the coast of Africa below. "Had he not been there…"

'_Oh, Hera!'_ Diana thought. How did she not see it before? It was more than guilt about Superman taking one to save Batman. So much more...

It was also about Batman's vulnerability. There was no trick, no maneuver Batman could have done to save himself in the face of that weapon. The memory… the feeling of helplessness… it must be eating him inside like acid.

It was about how Bruce felt guilty that he was _grateful_ Superman took the hit. He felt bad for being _thankful_ that he wasn't splattered out the doors of that truck.

It was about how _Superman_ had almost _died_ for _Batman._ It was about the guilt Bruce was feeling for having a moment of selfish gratitude that the world had almost lost their greatest hero in place of him.

"It's OK," Diana tried.

"No, it's _not_ OK." He cut her off, storming back and forth. "It's not. This world needs Superman more than it needs me. More than it needs a hundred Batmen… a thousand. He could have died saving me – what good would that do?"

"You're right, the world _does_ need Superman. Maybe even more than it needs Batman. But Superman needs _you_, Bruce. The League needs you, I need you, we all…"

She had stated it plainly enough, that she was to be included as another member of the League that depends on Batman for his remarkable talents. That's not how it was received, however. To Bruce, it was something deeper. To Bruce, there was a hidden meaning to it – a confession.

'_Not now, Diana.'_ He thought.

"Don't." he warned.

Taking a second to register his warning, it dawned on her to what he was referring. She considered the possibility that perhaps he was right – that she was making a form of confession. Maybe she was. What was more, it didn't bother her at all that she might be.

"I am not going to deny it." She shot back just as firmly. "I care for you. I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't think you're helping anybody by denying that you're hurting just as much… no, even _more_ so, than anybody right now. There's nothing wrong with that. It doesn't make you any less of a warrior. Everybody gets scared…"

Glare.

"… yes, I said _scared…_ when something like that happens." Hands on her hips, when the strong voice of an Amazon Princess fills the room, attention must be paid. "We all chose this life, _Batman_. We all know the risks, and we accept them. But we're not perfect. We can't account for everyth…"

"I don't have time for this!" he hissed, putting the cowl back on. Batman was back.

"Damn it, Bruce!" She fumed through her teeth and clenching her fists. "Will you just _talk_ to me?!"

"Go away, Princess."

Grinding out a scream of rage, Wonder Woman turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, denting a wall plate with her fist. Greek curses could be heard along with the clacking of her heels down the hall.

Pissing off an immortal warrior may not have been a smart move, he considered, but he did it nonetheless. Now was not a good time to talk._ There's work to be done… any work. Calculations to run, analyses to perform, crime to fight. There's no time for this. It's a _waste_ of time! SHE's a waste of time. I don't have time for HER, I don't have time for any of it!_


	3. Chapter 3: Discovery

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Discovery

Despite his agreement with the rest of the League, Batman didn't report to the infirmary to get checked out by J'onn. The episode with Wonder Woman had effectively changed his mind. Instead, he immediately teleported to the Batcave to continue his research. He poured over data about leads and possible connections between the mercenary group that had battled the League and the list of people known to have the means and know-how to produce the weapon that had put Superman in a coma.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, thank you, Alfred," he replied not looking up.

Every computer and machine in the Batcave was on and engaged in some form of analysis or calculation. Robotic arms on milling machines etched away at titanium blocks to form shapes and different parts of a new machine, a weapon of sorts for Batman's arsenal. Working on his fourth day without sleep, Batman without his cowl and cape was peering through the twin lenses of his microscope at shards of Kryptonite found at the scene of the crime. The geometry of the fragments hinted towards the power of the LASER they produced, which would, in turn tell what kind of damage the LASER would have inflicted upon his friend.

Many of his efforts during the last three days were starting to pay off. He had been able to recreate the device that generated red sun gamma radiation that was used on Superman. He could now test the kind of damage the device would do on Kryptonian flesh. Knowing how Superman was affected could be a major step in finding a way to fix whatever was wrong.

"If I may say so, sir," Alfred said, still standing perfectly straight and still at Batman's side. "Bruce Wayne's absences are becoming too significant for certain people to ignore. Four days without taking a meeting and an entire weekend without high-society exploits are quite unusual and will most certainly raise questions."

"I know that Alfred," Batman said in his Bruce Wayne voice. Standing up from his pose over the microscope, and turning to his servant, friend and surrogate father, he could see the true concern in the older man's face. "This is one of those times when we're just going to have to let people think what they want and do some damage control later. I can't stop right now, there are too many things to do."

"Sir, you know that I would never stand between you and your goals, nor would I stand between Batman and his mission. However, I must insist that you take at least _some_ time to rest. I don't need to tell you that a person may loose their wits and become more of a liability than an asset in times like these."

"You're right, Alfred," Bruce said turning back towards his work, picking up some slides and categorizing them in a Plexiglas case. "I probably should get some rest. I've been working non-stop on this since it happened."

Bruce carried the case to a metal shelving unit, extracted another and brought it back to the examining table.

"My mind's been racing the whole time," he continued, opening the case, "going over different possibilities… consequences… But to be honest, I'm not tired. Not even remotely."

"Sir?" Alfred could sense that there was more to say than was being said.

Bruce took a short break from arranging samples on the table.

"My mind," he started, "is clear as a bell. Normally, I would have _forced_ myself to take some rest by now. Normally I would have recognized the signs of fatigue, both physical and mental. I haven't seen any, yet. I feel like I just woke up from a good night's sleep."

Bruce's far-off gaze was evidence that he was considering something deeper. A slight smile crept upon his lips. Intrigued, and out of concern, Alfred pressed the issue further.

"To what do we owe this sustained boost of energy?" he asked skeptically.

"I don't know."

"Sir, one cannot simply work night and day for four days…"

"Alfred, please," Bruce said as politely as he could raising a hand. He didn't want to hear another person telling him to take it easy, or get some rest, or get checked out, or anything. His mind may still be working sharply, but his patience was still as thin as ever, if not more so on this particular subject. "I appreciate that you're trying to help, but I know my own limitations. _You_ know that."

Glancing back at Alfred, he continued; "I don't push myself too far…"

Alfred's astonished look was enough of a disagreement at that statement.

"…unless it's absolutely necessary," Bruce qualified, "or unless I know that I can continue on effectively. And both of those reasons fall into play here."

"You may physically be able to continue on, of that I have no doubt," Alfred rebutted thoroughly with raised eyebrows, "and you say that your mind is still working sharply, so I'll have to take your word for it. But, sir, it seems to me that there is something else to consider. I don't want to see your judgment impaired because…"

"Alfred, don't start this," Bruce's patience was wearing away quickly. Batman never intimidated the old English gentleman, but that didn't prevent him from trying now and again. "_Diana_ started down that trail…"

"Then I must agree with the Princess…"

"…and she was just as wrong about it as…"

"…and she is probably the only one that cares for you as much as…"

"… you are."

"… I do."

The wasted batglare did nothing to waiver the steely dead-set eyes of his friend… the one person in the world that kept his keel even. Forcing out a frustrated… almost defeated sigh, Bruce turned back towards his work.

"Good night, Alfred."

"I WILL NOT!"

In the 25 years since his parents had died, Bruce had only heard that tone of voice from Alfred in the rarest and most extreme situations. It had frightened him as a child, made him feel guilty as a teen. In his early manhood and in the first years as Batman, he knew that it meant that he was falling off the path. Now, tonight, for the first time, he didn't know how to take it. That tone of voice didn't instill any emotion in him other than secure his attention.

"Listen, to me, _Master Bruce!_" The wise voice boomed. "I will _not_ stand by and see you throw away _anything_ for which you have worked so hard and sacrificed so much. Good heavens, would you listen to what you are saying?"

Bruce stopped his work and turned to consider his butler's words.

"Anybody that knows you understands the futility of trying to sway you from things on which you have decided. You know that I would never, and what's more I believe you know that the Princess would never interfere in your work, were it not for grave concerns. The fact that you say she has extended her concerns to you only reinforces my belief that she is, indeed, a 'Wonder Woman' and the fact that you did not accept them tells me that you are severely in need of being beaten soundly about the head and shoulders!"

Bruce quizzically cocked his head to one side as the admonishment continued.

"So, will. You. Please. Just _listen_ for once?"

Bruce's silence and slightly bowed head invited more. Alfred took a second to compose himself and regain his gentlemanly demeanor.

"I want to tell you, now, something that I had never told anybody before, although I knew I would have to tell you before too long. It is about and incident concerning your mother and father before you were born… before they were even married…"

Bruce looked incredulously at the old man. Alfred nodded and sighed. The magnitude of that preamble had gotten Bruce's complete attention. He motioned towards two nearby chairs. Silently, the two sat and talked as men, not servant and master.

"One dreadful, rainy evening, your father was driving himself home after a late night at the University. He had taken a small sports car that he owned at the time. Your mother despised that vehicle, but your father refused to get rid of it. There was an automobile accident near a particularly dangerous curve and Mr. Wayne stopped to offer any medical assistance he could…"

Bruce listened intently as if he were a young man again, learning about Alexander the Great.

"He was administering first aid to one of the young ladies that had been injured, when a rather large truck rounded the corner and lost control. As your father told me, he had his back towards the truck, but the young lady he was treating saw it coming at them and screamed. Mr. Wayne turned and saw the truck as it was about to hit them both, he had just enough time to dive out of the way…"

Alfred died off as he harkened back to that night.

"The young lady was killed instantly," Alfred continued with a deep breath. "Your father suffered a rather nasty gash on his leg, which remained as a scar for the rest of his life."

"I remember that scar," Bruce whispered.

"The sports car he was driving that night was wrecked beyond repair. A policeman gave your father a ride home. He told your mother that he had finally decided to sell it and gave her a lovely string of pearls, which he _said_ that he bought with the money he had gotten for it."

_String of pearls..._

"I'll always remember that evening," Alfred said looking away towards the stairwell that led up to the Manor. "Mr. Wayne was drenched through and through. He had tried to bandage his own wound on the street. His suit was ruined. He invited me to sit with him and share a drink as he calmed his nerves. It was the first time I can recall being served a drink by a charge. I had cognac, your father had scotch. We sat and talked plainly that night."

To Bruce, the image of his father sitting and talking plainly with his butler was not too far of a stretch. Class segregation was never one of his shortcomings. He could image the two men sitting by a roaring fire in the drawing room.

"He needed a friend that night," Alfred recalled. "He was racked with guilt… survivor's guilt, I think they call it. That poor young lady he was treating, she never had a chance. Your father couldn't help but feel that she had saved him… her scream had alerted him and caused him to dive out of the way. For a long time after, he tortured himself, believing that he should have tried to pull her out of the car and save her life as well. The other witnesses said that he had saved two other lives that night already and it would have been impossible to save her, as well. Had he tried, he most certainly would have shared her fate. In fact, they were shocked that he managed to escape at all."

Bruce could see where this was going. He felt like he was doing good by the old man by letting him finish. While somewhat amazed that he had never heard or discovered this story before, he was not surprised that neither his father nor Alfred had told anybody about it. Surely, there would be something in the newspaper archives he could find out. As if sensing his thoughts, Alfred continued.

"The young lady was on her way back to college with her parents and her younger brother. Your father set up a college scholarship fund in her name that still helps students today…"

_So, that's why he started it… _

"…and he even helped the poor truck driver, who was fired after the incident, although it was proven that he was not driving recklessly. Mr. Wayne gave him a job and even covered his medical and legal obligations."

Believing Alfred's point was made, Bruce nodded thoughtfully and started to stand back up.

"Please," Alfred stopped him. "I am not finished."

Puzzled, Bruce leaned back into place.

"That night that your father and I shared that quiet drink, he confessed something to me that I suspected I would have to tell you some day, but foolishly hoped I would not. As I said before, this whole affair happened before you were born, before he and your mother were married. In fact, he had been debating about proposing to her right up until that evening.

"Mr. Wayne said to me… he said 'Alfred, I almost failed Martha tonight.'"

Bruce considered the alternate life his mother may have had had that young lady not screamed. Then he considered how he owed his existence to that scream.

"He said to me, 'I don't know how much time Martha and I have together, it doesn't matter; I will make sure that she is happy for every moment of it.'"

That was a line Bruce was not prepared to hear. The implications of that line were too profound to ignore.

"Well, sir," Alfred concluded. "I just thought you might appreciate that story."

With that, the meticulous butler excused himself for the evening and steadily climbed the stairs back up to his world. Bruce stayed seated in thought for some time, debating the relevance of his father's wisdom to his own world.

_'He's right.'_ Bruce thought._ 'What happens later, we cannot say. All we can do is make sure the ones we care for _now_ know what they mean to us. Make sure they're happy – we're happy.'_

_'That situation is not the same.'_ Batman countered. '_We chose this mission, not only because of what we are, but also because of how the world _should _be._ _If we abandon that, we destroy all that your father wanted.'_

_'He wanted a happy family.'_

_'And it was taken from him! From you! We _vowed _to never let that happen to anybody ever again.'_

_'I can still continue with the mission. She's a part of it now. She's part of the same mission.' _

_'She's in the way!' _

_'No, not her. Others were in the way. It was all of the others that couldn't possibly fit into this life. Not her. She fits. She knows what this is all about.' _

_'She takes your mind off the mission'. _

_'She keeps me honest. She calls me out and lets me know when I'm full of shit. She's the _only_ one that can do that_.'

_'You'll be thinking about her when you should be focusing on more important things.'_

_'That's nothing new. Other people have always been on my mind, people I know and the nameless innocents I try to protect. It doesn't last. I know how to concentrate on the mission. How is this different?'_

_'Because _she's_ different. You don't have time for this.'_

_'You're afraid.'_ Bruce attacked.

_'You're damn right, I'm afraid!' _Batman countered. '_I'm afraid innocent people will get killed because you're thinking about a pair of tits when you should be thinking about a fight!'_

_'And her legs…'_

_'Don't be _stupid._ She'll be worse than the others because she'll be on your mind more than they were.'_

_'And why's that?'_

_'Because you _love _her, you idiot!'_

_'That's right… I love her.'_

* * *

Wonder Woman walked through the halls of the Watchtower, reading the latest reports on an incident in Montreal and sipping an iced mocha on her way to the monitor womb. She turned the corner and caught the shadow of the bat out of the corner of her eye. Her slight hesitation was too late to catch, but she maintained her dignity by ignoring his presence and pretending to concentrate on the papers in her hand as she strode by him, her red boots clicking on the polished floor.

"Diana."

"Wonder Woman," she corrected him not looking up.

"I'd like to talk to you if you have a minute."

She stopped a few paces away, still pretending to read. She hoped that she had at least some success in hiding her surprise and, she admitted – hope, when she recognized his politeness. Why didn't he say something more Batmanish like "_We need to talk?"_ She wasn't going to give him any breaks or make anything easy for him. If he wanted business, she'd be all business. If he wants something else, he's going to have to _work_ for it.

"So talk." She said finally looking up.

"Can we go someplace else?" He asked, not with a Batman voice.

"Sure." She said casually and started off toward the cafeteria. She had just left there with her drink and she knew it was vacant. Her quarters would be too intimate. This was private enough without getting too much so.

Sitting down at the first table she came to, she placed her papers neatly in front of her, took one last sip of her drink and looked up at him doing her best to look impatient.

"I owe you an apology," he said, not sitting down.

"You do? Why?" she deadpanned.

Sighing, he realized that she was going to make him work for everything. He had found the time, _made_ the time to try this. Briefly, he considered that maybe he wasn't ready after all. Her stubbornness was no secret after all. Then again, neither was his. Determined to give it his best shot – to break just a little more ice with Diana, he adopted a meeker approach. '_Playing it safe could be a smart – better start out platonically...'_

"You were trying to be a good friend yesterday and I was unnecessarily rude. You didn't deserve it, and I'm sorry."

"I see," she replied clinically. "Well, apology accepted. Anything else?"

_I deserved that_, he thought.

"Yes."

_'Hera!'_ She fought to contain the growing warmth inside her chest. The fearless Amazon Warrior was experiencing new emotions that she had never felt before. Her strong nature steeled her against all foes and situations she found herself in. What she felt now was inside herself. Was he taking a step further into a new relationship? Or was she just naively hoping?

"Diana… " he considered changing his address back to 'Wonder Woman' upon seeing her cocked eyebrow, but thought better of it and continued on. "I don't want to fight with you. It's too important to the League that we get along right now."

"The League?" she said in disbelief.

Whatever he was trying to do, he was failing miserably and he knew it. She was visibly getting more tense each second and if something wasn't done right…

Turning and pacing away from her, he lost himself in thought.

"This isn't easy for me," he mumbled, hoping she wouldn't hear, but knowing full well she did.

_It's now or never, tough guy,_ Batman teased.

Reaching up with both hands, he slid the cowl off and turned profile to her, head hanging. Turning slightly to look at her, seeing her blue eyes and her expression of expectation that she was trying to hide so poorly.

"You mean a lot to me," he started confessing. "I… don't know what to say, or how to say it… but… you do… and… I'm not ready to feel the way I do for you."

In that broken sentence, Diana heard more than was spoken. Nodding, fighting a smile, she blinked her eyes clear and searched for an appropriate response. As new as this may have been for him, it was newer still for her.

"I… too…" the great princess flustered "er…_you_ mean a lot to me as well… Bruce."

Waitng in silence with their eyes locked softly, both the Warrior Princess and the Dark Knight drew comfort from the knowledge that the first major step into a possible relationship had been taken without incident or regret.

After precious seconds, Diana's eyebrows raised as if to ask _What now?_

On that cue, Bruce smiled with an idea. Putting his cowl back over his handsome face, he stepped closer to her chair. "Come with me."

Taking her hand, he led her down the hall to her quarters. Uncertain of his intentions, Diana grew more apprehensive with each step after deducing their destination. She was _not _ready for _that_. Stopping at her door, Bruce turned and gently instructed;

"Get some clothes," He smirked. "I'm taking you out for a picnic."

"A picnic?"

"Yeah," his grin widened. "A picnic. You like horses don't you?"

She nodded with a confused smile.

"Well, I own a lot of horses," he continued. "I'll ask Alfred to prepare us a nice picnic lunch and we'll go for a ride around the grounds at the Manor. No press, no public intrusions, just you and me."

The sudden show of playful improvisation was so out of character for this man, she didn't know how to react. Was this a date? How should she respond? Is now a good time to play 'hard to get' like Shayera talks about?

"Uh… OK…"

"Great. Bring something casual to wear – comfortable for riding. Meet me at the teleporter in 20 minutes."

He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and smiling, turned and whisked down the hall. Speechlessly, she entered her quarters and sat on the edge of her bed. Seven minutes later, she was still sitting there when she realized that she only had thirteen minutes to get ready for a date with Bruce Wayne.

* * *

Bruce was in his quarters on board the Watchtower relaying his ideas to an over-joyed Alfred. The two men discussed the best settings on the grounds for the picnic with the princess; what foods to prepare, what wine to serve, and all the proper things one should do when courting Amazon royalty. A short beeping interrupted their plans.

"I have to go, Alfred. I'll see you in 15 minutes." Bruce finished.

Then Batman said: "Go ahead."

"Batman, this is J'onn. You may want to come to the infirmary, Superman is awake."

"I'll be there in a minute, J'onn," Batman replied. "Contact Wonder Woman, she'll want to see him too."

"Understood."

"Batman out."

Putting back on his uniform, Batman made his way to the infirmary briskly. He was cursing the fact that his impromptu date may have to be postponed, but the prospect of Superman's recovery was more than compensation. A moment later, Wonder Woman joined him and the two exchanged an apologetic glance.

"He's still weak, but conscious," the huge green Martian informed them as they entered the room where their colleague was laying.

"How are you feeling?" Wonder Woman said taking Superman's hand.

"Tired," he managed, trying to give her a gentle squeeze for reassurance.

"You had us worried for a while," she smiled.

"Well, I'm back now, thanks to J'onn."

"Don't thank me now, Superman. You haven't fully recovered yet."

"J'onn, has his regeneration rate increased at all since yesterday?" Batman asked looking over page after page of charts on a clipboard.

"No," J'onn said forlornly. "He's healing is extraordinarily slow when compared to his usual rate of regeneration. For a human, however, he is perfectly normal."

All heads turned towards J'onn with concern.

"That is why I wanted you to be here, Batman," he continued. "I think Superman has lost all of his powers. It is what you had feared all along."

The long silence in the room was softly perforated by the muted beeping and whirring of medical machinery. Saying nothing, Batman produced a razor-sharp batarang, pulled back the sheet to expose Superman's… Clark's… leg and scratched it.

"You should not have been able to do that," J'onn testified.

Ignoring Clark's wincing and Diana's demand for explanation, he quickly gathered a drop of resulting blood on a slide and examined it under the nearest microscope he could find. Adjusting the focus and the magnification several times, he straightened up from his stoop over the device and turned towards the others.

"He's human."

* * *

Superman, The Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman and Batman stared at each other in profound silence. The crushing news that Superman had lost his powers was a powerful blow to their collective awareness from many different angles. After all things were considered, the end result was that the Man of Steel was effectively dead, despite the fact that Clark Kent was sitting up and pondering the situation with the rest of them. No longer would the all-but-invincible Kryptonian be there for their heavy battles. The League, no, the _world¸_ had just lost their greatest power for Justice.

"Can the effects be reversed?"

Wonder Woman's attempt at a rosy solution was the perfect setup for the mother of all let downs. This possible situation and any possible solutions were exactly the things Batman had been working on so feverishly.

"I haven't found anything yet," he finally admitted turning towards the microscope.

The word 'yet' seemed to be thrown in as a courtesy. There didn't seem to be any hope in his voice that an eventual solution could be found.

"You knew this could happen?" Diana asked unbelieving.

Bruce nodded.

"It was a possibility," J'onn answered vocally for him. "Batman and I had discussed all the major possibilities that could result from Superman's exposure to such a weapon. This was one of the most extreme, but not the only conclusion we had come to thus far."

"When were you two going to inform the _rest _of us of these… _possibilities?_" Diana's frustration over the situation was venting itself verbally on the two researchers.

"We didn't want to jump to any conclusions," J'onn answered as diplomatically as he could. "We needed to see what symptoms would develop over time."

Clark sat in silence listening to his comrades argue around him. So many things were going through his head, the implications, the changes in his life, and the changes in the dynamics of the never-ending battle… the possibilities… He was tired. Tired like he'd never been before. His chest was sore. His mind was wandering. He was grumpy and irritable all of a sudden. Then his mind came back to the present to hear the heated accusations of Wonder Woman and the cool, defensive responses from Batman and the Martian Manhunter.

Although he may have lost his strength and other powers, he was still Clark Kent, raised modesty and politely in rural Kansas. Ma Kent's boy wasn't dead.

"Stop it," he insisted. "All of you."

It took a second for the three to realize that it was the first thing their ailing friend had said in several minutes. Out of courtesy, the arguments ceased and the three members of the League turned towards the voice of the man that still sounded like their leader.

"This isn't over," he continued. "Batman, J'onn… it sounds like there is still some research to be done. I would appreciate it if you could continue…"

Both men nodded.

"Diana," she turned to face him as if accepting and assignment. "Without my powers, the League will have to rely on you more than in the past. I want you and J'onn to be ready for when things get ugly."

"Perhaps I should make an occasional appearance," J'onn offered, "in the form of Superman."

"That would keep people from thinking… knowing," Wonder Woman corrected herself, "that you've lost your powers."

"That's a good idea," Clark said, nodding.

The optimism in Clark's voice helped the others keep on track. The League would continue and as far as the rest of the world was concerned, Superman was alive and well, still serving Truth, Justice… all that. As the collective minds worked to devise measures for continued League operations and ways to break the news to the others, Clark fell silent again as if he had realized something important.

"… even Flash wouldn't blab to anybody about…" Diana trailed off upon seeing Clark's distracted look. "Clark?"

"Batman…" Clark said looking at his other partner, who had slid into the darkest corner of the room unnoticed. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Batman answered too quickly.

"There is something you're not telling us," J'onn announced ominously.

All eyes turned expectantly towards the Dark Knight. Through his soulless eye lenses, he seemed lost in thought. His right hand slid up to cover his left bicep. After a moment of tense contemplation, Batman moved swiftly. He ripped off his cowl and cape. Without being asked, J'onn helped him pull off his Kevlar vest over his head. He was on his way towards the mirror over the sink as he pealed the final layers off his bare torso. Examining his left arm, with and without the mirror he finally spoke.

"I got hit on patrol the other night," he said slowly. "There's no scar."

Clark and Wonder Woman took a second to make the connection of that observation to the topic of conversation they were just having. J'onn knew immediately what Batman was implying.

Taking the other end of the same batarang that he had used on Clark's leg, Batman ran it hard over his arm. No scratch was produced. Looking around the room, he tried it again, pushing the point harder against his flesh. Again, no scratch, but an alarmingly loud screeching. With a sigh, he tried it a third time and the batarang broke in half under the pressure. His skin was flawless.

"Great Hera."


	4. Chapter 4: Adjustment

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.

* * *

**

Chapter 4: Adjustment

"How ya feelin' Smallville?"

Lois Lane was wearing a wider grin than she would have expected today. As she was walking to her favorite café for lunch and considering which favors to pull in to check up on her injured colleague from the Daily Planet, her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement when she saw the caller ID: "Smallville".

"I'm doing alright, Lois," Clark replied from the other end of the line with a weaker voice than she wanted to hear. "I've been better, but I'm doing alright."

"That's good to hear," Lois admitted, trying to sound casual, but meaning every word. "So, tell me… where do I send the flowers and teddy bears?"

Clark let out a chuckle. "Send them to my mother's farm. I'll be taking a few more days to recover. I should be back in Metropolis in a week or so."

_'A week?!' _Lois thought. _'Who recovers from a coma in a week?'_

As her heels clacked along the sidewalk, Lois couldn't help but feel confused about the jumble of feelings rolling in the pit of her stomach. She was relieved that Clark was doing better. She was inexplicably excited to hear Clark's voice. She was still worried about her friend… her _close_ friend and colleague. Her… _good friend? Dear friend? More than a friend? NO! Good friend will do._ It had only been 3 days since Perry White had broke the news of Clarks 'accident' and she had been working nonstop on two fronts ever since; what has happened to Superman and what has happened to 'Smallville.'

"Listen, Smallville," she warned, "We got it covered down here. Don't you go pushing yourself too hard to get back to work."

"I won't, Lois," Clark reassured her.

They finished the conversation with the obligatory pleasantries and Lois had to throw in some signature jabs at Clark's rural upbringing. As she entered the deli, her mind was still on the thought of him lying in a hospital bed in a loose-fitting white gown reading the Smallville farm reports or some such thing. She wanted to do something for him – send him a card or visit him at his mother's house. But she had doubts.

_'I can't drive out to Smallville just to _see_ him!'_ She pondered. _'He'd know that… _think_ that I cared for him. Now, if I were already in the area…'_

"NAYXT!"

The loud voice from behind the counter with a mix of foreign accent and Metropolis dialect brought her back to the now. She quickly blurted out her order and dropped back into her conniving. She was diligently trying to think of a way to 'drop by' the Kent farm, just to see him. Had she taken the time to stop and think about it, she would have bewildered herself by trying to figure out why she was spending so much time thinking about Clark's well being. Instead, she kept to her scheming and the 'how', not the 'why'. Somehow, she was going to see Clark, and without considering the reasons, she just knew that sooner was better in her mind. Lois's trademark motivation had been set in motion. She had a mission now and everything else wasn't even on the radar.

It took the cashier two tries to get her attention when her order was up. She paid without realizing that she tipped $3.78 on a $6.22 tab. As she was leaving the deli, her ears caught the only word… the only _name_… that could have taken her out of her trance: "…Superman…"

Turning towards the small black and white TV on top of the soda cooler by the order counter, Lois watched as an international news reporter covered an incident involving an avalanche in the Chilean Andes and how Superman had come to the rescue of 3 people that were buried in the slide.

The shaky footage that played on the fuzzy screen showed the Man of Steel easily moving large amounts of snow and ice with his hands and pulling one of the victims to safety. The image switched to a brief interview after the incident. The reporter only had time for one question.

"Superman, SUPERMAN! This is the first time you've been seen since the ACCORD incident in Metropolis. Would you care to comment on that?"

"My presence has been required in other places," the dark-haired man said impassively, then turned and launched into the sky.

Lois stared at the screen as the news program switched back to the anchorman in the studio. Her curiosity should have been mollified, now that Superman's whereabouts and wellbeing were established. It wasn't. If anything the brief encounter with the reporter and the almost cryptic answer made her even more curious. The expression on his face, the wording he used… very unusual. Lois didn't like being handed the answers.

_'I wonder what else is going on…'_

* * *

"Good night, Mr. Wayne"

"Good night, Sandy," Bruce said with his sexiest grin. He watched in admiration as his divinely shaped secretary with the supermodel-quality smile strode towards the elevator. Being Bruce Wayne has its perks.

For the remainder of the week, Bruce Wayne had been seen at Wayne Enterprise functions and meetings as if his 4-day absence had never occurred. Whenever somebody had asked about it, if they actually waited for an answer, he had a sly response that alluded to the kind of fun that only billionaires enjoy and he couldn't possibly pass up. That simple little ruse was all that was really needed.

It had taken many years to do it, but Bruce Wayne had found and put in place many high-performance people around him. People that could effectively run Wayne Enterprises and all its subsidiaries for days or weeks without his input. People that Bruce Wayne wouldn't have to micro-manage, but would still accept his direction if he offered it. It was a well-devised plan that made the past 8 days so easy to gloss over.

As the elevator doors closed around the smiling face and exquisite figure of his secretary, he shifted his thoughts towards Bruce Wayne's social events for the evening. He was slated to attend a fundraiser for a children's hospital that had a wing bearing his father's name. He was dreading the affair and the young red-headed starlet that would hang on his arm and slowly pickle herself on expensive bubbly as he floated from social sphere to social sphere with a smile plastered on his face that was about as deep as his feelings for her. Such were the demands of keeping the paparazzi at bay so he could continue his mission. He had at no less than 3 plans in mind for cutting the evening short so he could go out on patrol.

Since Clark's awakening and subsequent release from the Watchtower infirmary, the rest of the league had outlined and executed a handful of expertly devised plans for the benefit of all parties involved;

J'onn J'onz had made 2 appearances as Superman in order to maintain the public's delusion that the Man of Steel was alive and well within the League. Initially, not all members of the League took that kind of deception well, but eventually, everybody concurred that things should _appear_ normal until more was found out about the weapon that was used on Superman and those responsible were captured.

Clark Kent had gone back to his boyhood home in Smallville. His mother was all too happy to have him about the house again. The remarkable woman was informed of Clark's condition immediately after the incident and kept up-to-date of his recovery. She was fully aware of his current condition and upon seeing his smiling, but weakened face on her front porch, she lost all care for Superman and was just happy to have Clark home again.

Green Lantern and Hawkgirl had even taken some pleasure in demolishing Clark's car to uphold the 'car accident' story. GL had to hold his winged companion back a little – it was supposed to look like it had been in an accident, not a battle.

Wally had even helped with the deception by providing some vague medical documents for Clark to submit to the Daily Planet insurance companies.

All in all, the heroes of the Justice League looked like they were open for business and Clark Kent looked like he was taking a little well-needed R and R.

Behind the scenes, however, things weren't so simple.

The initial shock of having to adjust to working without Superman in their ranks had affected each member differently. J'onn was impassive, GL was conservative, Hawkgirl was resistive, Flash was impulsive, Wonder Woman was assertive and Batman was elusive. They were all adults and able to move on quite professionally, although the situation was always at the back of their minds.

The part that they all agreed upon was that they were all thankful that Clark was alive and well. A close second behind that was the belief that they could find a way to restore the Kryptonian's powers. The biggest area of disconnect was the news that it seemed that Batman may have 'suffered' affects from his peripheral exposure to the red sun gamma radiation and Kryptonite LASER after all. Nothing new had been disclosed and even J'onn and Wonder Woman were somewhat uncertain of the consequences of what they witnessed in the infirmary.

For 4 days, there had been murmurs about his true condition. He had refused to let J'onn examine him. Flash had considered testing him by 'accidentally' knocking a large piece of equipment over on top of him. GL had talked him out of that easily enough.

"What if he _doesn't_ have any new powers?"

Bruce's impromptu picnic date with Diana never took place. There was no displayed bitterness about the subject. Batman was too scarcely seen on the Watchtower and whenever he and Wonder Woman did have a second alone, he simply never brought it up. Diana didn't want him to push her away again if she happened to broach the subject at an inappropriate time. To her mind, stagnant progress was better than withdrawal. She would be patient enough for him to retake that step. _He _better _retake that step!_

Saturday morning, the day after the Fund Raiser, where Bruce Wayne had pledged a record donation to the Children's Hospital, Batman was again directing a meeting of the 6-member League.

The meeting continued as plainly as if Superman himself were droning on as usual. There were no important incidents to speak of. There wasn't even an update about the research into the weapon that had wreaked so much havoc into their lives over the past 8 days. To anybody not in the know, the incident at the docks simply didn't occur, judging by the meeting agenda. It was on everybody's mind, but as Batman ran through the list of talking points, that subject was glaringly absent.

"If there's nothing else," Batman concluded, organizing his notes.

As he stood from his chair, he noticed that nobody else was making an effort to leave. Instead, they were all looking at him with varying degrees of expectancy and disbelief lacing their expressions.

"You can't be serious," Hawkgirl accused.

"I have nothing further for the group," Batman responded, knowing full well that it wouldn't help.

"Batman," Lantern started, leaning forward, his forearms on the edge of the table. He was going to play the unemotional, strategy-oriented card that he knew Batman would have a hard time trumping. "As a team, we all need to know of any significant changes to one of our members. We've all discussed this and we feel that there may be some vital information you're not telling us."

"You're right," Batman replied to the shock of all. "There is some information I'm not telling you. Where you're wrong is your belief that it is vital."

"So you're saying that nothing has changed in your capacity to perform as a member of this team?" Wonder Woman charged. She had purposely worded it so that he wouldn't have to admit to any changes as long as he felt it didn't affect his performance.

"Part-time member," Batman corrected. "And, no. Nothing has changed. I can still perform any duties the League requires of me."

That cryptic answer did little to calm all questioning heads at the round table. Diana had lobbed him a softball pitch and he hit it out of the park. He had answered without answering in classic Batman-ese. He knew damn well that nobody would be satisfied, but he had also worded his responses in such a way that they couldn't argue with him about it. It was a verbal chess match and he was the master.

Flash, however, didn't play chess. He played video games…

"OK, are you the new Superman or what?" he blurted out.

"I'm Batman." Batman said leaning imposingly in Flash's direction.

"No shit," he countered, not backing down. "But I gotta feeling that there's something you're not telling us about what happened to you in that explosion…"

Diana and J'onn were present when the razor-sharp bat-a-rang was no match for Batman's skin. That had been the last time she had seen any sign of anything out of the ordinary about Batman. From that moment on, things were ostensibly normal; his demeanor was back to Batman-like tones. His sightings on the Watchtower were down to a few rare occasions. She had even gone out of her way to keep an eye on the Gotham news to discover that Batman was alive and well within his city. In essence, everything had gone back to normal after that day. So very, very normal.

Too normal.

"I think we can all trust Batman to inform us of any relevant news, should he feel we need to know," she said as impassively and diplomatically as she could. For the League's sake and for Bruce's, she knew that she had to side with Batman just a little.

Standing a little straighter in defiance, Batman looked around the table at the others. With Wonder Woman on his side, it would be damn near impossible to get anything else out of him today. That didn't change the fact that everybody in the room, including Wonder Woman, believed that Batman had information that he was not divulging.

With that, he turned and walked out of the conference room.

* * *

Standing on the fourth-story ledge of a century-old building in Gotham's lower-east side, Batman held vigilant watch over a particular alleyway that had been mentioned too many times on the police scanner lately. He could clearly see two men in the dark shadows trying too hard to look casual. As passers-by continued unaware, Batman waited for the two thugs to make the wrong move and he could scare them into a life with honor.

As he watched, the two men hid at different points along the alley. A small band of young adults shouted and frolicked their way past. One of the young men mentioned a natural bodily function and started down the alley for a dark corner.

Batman watched as the young man drew closer to the ambush. Step, by step he was anticipating the two criminals to spring their attack just as their presence was detected. That would be their method, he was sure. They will wait until the last possible minute and gain the full element of surprise. The second the victim shows any sign that he sees them, they'll spring. An effective, but rookie technique.

It was time to act. He shot a grapple across the street and flinched at how loudly it hit the terrace on the other building. For a split second he thought that the telltale sound would spoil his stealth. Upon realizing that nobody else was responding to the loud metallic clang, he swung down to a fire escape on a building just at the end of the alley.

He cursed himself for his clumsiness as his boots hit the metal grating of the fire escape with an unforgivable clank. Surely his targets would have heard that. Quickly assessing the situation, he could clearly see that the prey had casually walked by one and was almost halfway to the other. He was trapped.

Batman unsheathed a pair of blunt-ended bat-a-rangs and jumped down to street level shadows at the end of the alley. He cocked his arm back and waited just one last second before he would skillfully throw down both assailants. At that moment, he heard the heavy breathing of one of the thugs. He saw the second thug jump out of the dumpster he was hiding behind…

As the victim turned to run, the other mugger blocked his retreat. The trap was sprung. Batman let one of the projectiles fly, hitting on mugger in the back and taking him out cleanly. The second man then made a dire mistake; he took out a knife. Batman flung the other weapon hitting him square in the chest, knocking him back and off his feet.

Stepping out of the shadows and into the center of the alley, the would-be victim cowered before him.

"Leave."

The stuttering young man nodded wide eyed and scrambled out of the alley towards his friends.

Batman took out two long plastic zip ties and rolled the first thug over onto his stomach. He wrenched the man's arms behind his back in order to lash his wrists together. Turning towards the second, he saw the man rolling in pain. He was holding his hands over where the bat-a-rang had hit him in the chest, in a fetal position, his breathing labored.

Batman was about to twist the suspect's arms behind him in preparation for capture when he realized the severity of pain the man was in.

"Hold still."

Inspecting the man's chest, poking and prodding in particular places, and taking into account the moaning and yelping it produced, it was clear that several of the man's ribs were cracked or broken. There may have even been some internal bleeding or organ damage.

_I didn't do _that!_ He must have already had an injury…_

"Get to a doctor."

With that, Batman helped the guy painfully to his feet and watched as he staggered out of the alley. As he turned towards the other man, still out cold on the ground, he knelt down to examine his back where his assigned projectile had struck him. There seemed to be no sign of injury that was even as remotely severe as with the other.

The man moaned and started to come around. Batman easily hoisted him to his feet and slammed his back against he brick wall next to the dumpster he had been hiding in. Looming a good 3 inches taller than the petrified culprit, Batman leaned in to nearly touch nose-to-nose. Ignoring the stench of the man's breath, Batman lingered there to make sure he had the man's complete attention. There was real fear in his eyes. The man had been scared straight... hopefully. The swift 'schwing' of a polish-edged bat-a-rang sounded and Batman brought the object up and to the side of the culprit's face. The shine from the silvery edge of the instrument reflected what little ambient light there was across the man's eyes.

"Don't let me catch you doing that again."

Stammering, the man nodded his head violently. Batman whirled him around, neatly sliced the plastic zip tie and let the man run out the back of the alley.

Batman half smiled to himself. He hadn't seen those two before, which meant that they probably hadn't done this kind of crime very often. With any luck, those two men wouldn't continue on that path. If they did, he would remember them and make them pay a little more dearly.

Turning to walk out the alley, Batman replayed the whole incident in his head, critiquing himself: What did I do right? What did I do wrong? What worked or didn't work? What could I do better next time?

_That grapple hit the ledge too loudly… I landed too hard on the fire escape and almost gave away my position. Yet nobody seemed to hear. _

_I could _hear _their breathing… my hearing..._

_Did I throw that bat-a-rang hard enough to cause those injuries on that punk? _

_Oh, shit._

* * *

Clark Kent sat on a white wooden rocking chair watching the pink and orange sunset from the front porch on his mother's farmhouse. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh, sweet scent from the magnolia trees. Martha had made him a tall glass of lemonade and was in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner dishes. Clark had offered to help, of course, and Martha had insisted he couldn't, of course.

The past week had been very trying for the old woman. She knew perfectly well that Superman was practically indestructible. That doesn't keep a mother from worrying. So many times, she'd seen news reports and footage of battles her boy had fought or tragedies that he'd prevented. So many times, she had to turn off the television or radio and find a room that needed cleaning because she couldn't bear to hear of the horrors her son faced on a regular bases. The same stories that made young children gape in awe made her shudder in dread. The feats of strength and skill were impressive to everybody including her, but the emotional stress that she knew broke her heart far too often.

Jonathan, her late husband, used to speak of a higher calling for Clark. To him, there was a reason that they had found him when he landed on Earth as a baby. There was a reason that he had all his powers. There was even a reason that he had weaknesses. Jonathan knew that Clark was destined to give the world hope. He was destined to be on center stage in so many of the world's tragic episodes, providing relief for the grief-stricken. As Clark's father, he had concentrated daily to raise Clark to be an honorable man because of his understanding of Clark's future. There was a simple logic to it all and he knew that, as Clark's father, it was his duty to make sure that Clark was the most responsible person in the world, simply because he would some day become the most powerful person in the world.

Martha had no choice but to agree with Jonathan's assessments. The logic was there, but a mother wants her son to be happy as well. She felt the same swell of pride that Jonathan did every time she heard a story of Superman performing the most remarkable deeds. She felt even more pride when she saw how humbly Superman would still behave when adored by the masses. What she felt that Jonathan didn't was a kind of sadness for Clark because there was a dimension of life that he was missing. Jonathan had all but written off any hope of a normal life for his son – such are the unfair tidings of life with power. Martha, on the other hand, believed there were times when she would gladly trade in Superman for a happy Clark Kent who would settle down, marry and raise lots of grandchildren for her.

Just over a week ago, Martha Kent received a phone call from a man she never met before but heard the name of many times: J'onn J'onz. She knew from the moment the Martian identified himself that something was wrong with her son, despite the unemotional tone of voice. She had seen only headlines on television commercials for the local news about the ACCORD battle, so she was aware that the League had seen some action. It was one of the few times that she wasn't worried about her boy – one of the few times she had written the battle off as another thing Superman and his colleagues would handle without incident. Then she got that call.

J'onn had stabilized Superman as best he could and then looked up Martha Kent's phone number. He tried to sound sympathetic, as his human counterparts had often described it. He did his best to outline her boy's physical condition, but he could hear the worry and frustration the poor lady was feeling. He could feel her pain and grief, although he tried to block it as best he could. The emotions were pouring over the telephone lines louder than her words. Struggling to continue, he had to concentrate on the clinical analysis of the patient, which did little to calm Mrs. Kent down. Eventually, John Stewart had to take the receiver out of his colleague's hands and complete the conversation.

Martha listened as carefully as she could to the Martian, then to the Lantern. Clark had been hurt before, but there was something about the way the two League members talked that caused her grief to sink to new depths. Either that, or she was just getting old and getting tired of worrying about her adult son. Her heart ran through the gamut of emotions; denial, pain, reason, acceptance. She didn't want to worry any more.

She listened as the topic of conversation turned from a status update to a checklist of actions that the League would take to help Mrs. Kent uphold Superman's secret identity. They would stage evidence of a car crash. They would provide documentation and evidence that supported all the illusions that Clark Kent was a normal but unfortunate man that was a victim in a normal but regrettable automobile accident. The League would keep her up-to-date on his condition and do everything they could to help her in her time of need. Materialistically, it was one less thing to worry about. Emotionally, it did little to help her breaking heart.

As Clark's condition improved, and her son eventually came out of his coma, Martha was able to enjoy a short moment of relief. When word came that he would be able to come 'home' for a while, she knew that seeing him would bring closure to the whole incident. Her hopes were high as she heard his footsteps on her front porch. Holding his enormous frame in her arms again was the final chapter on that particular book of pain and worry. At that moment, she didn't care about the past, she didn't worry about the future. She had her son and he was home again.

Later that evening, she was more than happy to make all of Clark's favorite foods and desserts, although he didn't eat nearly as much as she thought he would – or should. She happily floated about the modest farm house trying her best to make sure her boy was comfortable and well taken care of. Clark was still weak and obviously in some pain, but he clearly appreciated the treatment. He was scolded when he tried to help wipe the kitchen table.

It was after that first dinner that Clark told his mother that he had lost all of his powers. He had started the conversation trying to prepare her for shocking news. The gentle woman didn't even flinch when she heard it. She couldn't care less about x-ray vision and super hearing – she had her son home and he was safe and sound. Superman was some other person far, far away in her mind.

Later that night, as Clark lay sleeping on the couch in front of the television, she slowly realized the magnitude of what he told her. Looking out her window at the night sky with all the twinkling stars, she recalled all the adventures Clark had growing up on the farm, all the times he had to struggle with developing his new powers, controlling them, as well as dealing with normal teen angst. She recalled the first mention in the news reports of Superman's exploits. She wandered about the house in fond remembrance to all of the times Superman had saved the day, of all of the heart-felt gratitude that countless throngs of people displayed for his heroics. It was then that she remembered how much her son, Superman, was needed and she realized how much he would be missed. It was more than the powers he possessed; it was _who he was_ that made Superman so beloved.

She had spent the next few days running the farm and working with the help all the while insisting that Clark stay put in the house. She had even considered having a ramp built over the steps of the front porch, but he was able to talk her out of it. She darn near started screaming at him when she caught him washing his own dishes one morning. And she had battled the internal struggle between enjoying the opportunity to pamper her son, of whom she was so proud, and forgetting about the fact that Superman was no more.

And she knew that some day, somebody would try to take Clark Kent away and make Superman live once again.

So as Clark sat rocking slowly with his lemonade in his hand in the fading twilight, she watched him out of the kitchen window and wondered how much time she'd have left with him. There was a far away look on her son's face she could not name. He had left her before, to become the greatest hero the Earth had ever known, and he had returned to her on occasion, only to leave again. Now he was back once more. There was a chance it was for good this time, nobody knew for sure. What was also unsure to her was how she felt about it.

The screen door creaked and slammed behind Clark. He was taken out of his daydreaming and stiffly turned to see his mother wiping her hands on her white apron. She sat next to him on a wooden bench that Jonathan had made many, many years ago, and watched the pink and purple rays of the sunset surrender to the darkening evening sky.

"Your father and I used to sit out here and watch the sunset all the time," she said, not looking at him. "He used to say that a beautiful sunset was God's way of rewarding us for a good day's work."

Clark looked towards the glowing west with new eyes. He could hear his father's voice in his memories saying so many wise words like these. It was simple words like these that helped form Clark Kent into Superman just as much as his powers. Little sayings that, as he was growing up, he considered corny or cliché. Now, with unfair weights of responsibility and memories that no farm boy ever dreamed of shouldering, he truly cherished those little pearls of wisdom. He realized how much he loved his mother and how much he missed his father.

"Have you thought about going back to work?" Martha asked with slight hesitation in her voice.

"How can I?" Clark asked despondently.

"You can still type…"

Both Clark and Martha realized that the other was talking about different jobs. To Martha it was a sign that what she had feared may come true; Clark wanted to go back to that life of danger and justice. To Clark, it was a sign that his mother still wanted him to settle down and raise her a house full of grandchildren. Mother and son shared a bashful chuckle and looked away from each other.

"I called Lois the other day."

"Oh?" This was a good sign to Martha – a sign towards domestic life. "And how is the lovely Ms. Lane?"

"She's as fiery as ever," Clark smiled. "I told her I would be here, then I'd be back at the Daily Planet in about a week or so…"

"A _week_?! Clark Kent, you will do no such thing! That Martian _doctor_ of yours said that you need to rest, and…"

"Ma… Ma, I know," Clark conceded. He saw the concern and love in his mother's old eyes. She was going to keep him on the farm as long as she could. He would do well to oblige her for a little while longer.

"I know, but I have to get back to Metropolis. My job, my apartment… there's a lot of stuff to do…"

"What 'stuff'? Everybody at the Daily Planet knows," Martha reasoned. "you're recovering from an 'accident'. That Mr. White even told me that you could take as long as you need. As far as your apartment goes; in a couple days… we can take a drive and you can water all your plants again. Or did you leave dirty clothes on the floor?"

She reached up and tousled Clark's hair as he stifled a laugh. The conversation was tap-dancing around the real subject on both of their minds: what about Superman? She didn't want him to go back to that life – not for a while anyway. He felt obliged to don his cape again as soon as possible. For the time being, it looked like fate was pointing more towards Mrs. Kent's goals than Clark's.

"C'mon," she said standing up and straightening her apron and skirt. "Let's go back inside and see if your Scrabble skills have come back to you yet."

Painfully, Clark struggled to his feet, politely refusing his mother's help. As he straightened to his full height, the shine of headlights coming up the long gravel drive caught their attention. Clark immediately reached for his glasses out of his shirt pocket. They watched as the car drew closer and stopped just outside the white fence. When the engine died and the headlights dimmed, the serene evening noises and country vistas once again dominated. The driver door opened and the shapely leg of Lois Lane gracefully stepped out.

Mrs. Kent was instantly aware that she was now part of the backdrop. Smiling, she slipped into the house unnoticed.

"Hey, Smallville…"

"Hi, Lois…"


	5. Chapter 5: Acceptance

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.

AN#2: I'd like to thank all of those that have sent reviews. I'm still pretty new at this stuff, so feedback is _always_ appreciated.

* * *

Chapter 5: Acceptance 

Batcave, 5:45 pm.

For 17 straight hours since his last patrol, Batman had been in his training arena deep within the Batcave. His precision moves, his pinpoint accuracy with his weapons and devices were all as sharp as ever. What he had trouble with now was his senses and control of his… he had to admit it… abilities. In one test throw, his bat-a-rang hit the target dead center. In the next, the bat-a-rang blasted though the target and embedded itself in the stone cave wall behind it.

Amongst the darkness and the dripping and the dank stench of the cave, Batman had to deal with the fact that his body was changing. Ever since Wonder Woman, Manhunter and Clark watched as he fruitlessly tried to pierce his own flesh with a carbon-steel bat-a-rang, he struggled desperately to grasp control of the situation. But eventually, reality had planted itself firmly within his realization; he now had super powers and he couldn't control them.

He didn't want them. He didn't want the life that being a meta human brought. He felt infected, dirty, poisoned. Ever since that moment of revelation in the Watchtower infirmary, he had doubled his efforts in his research on the weapon that had been used to devastate Superman, and, now it seems, empowering him. He was certain that he could find a way to strip these unwanted abilities away - to cure himself - and return Clark Kent to Superman at the same time. He felt he was close, but still hadn't gotten all the details arranged. The biggest challenge was calculating exactly what had happened in the back of that trailer and how.

He hadn't completely answered the 'what' or the 'how' yet.

What was certain was that he would have to learn to deal with his new body until his research was completed. The incident in the alley during his last patrol made him realize that he needed to learn how to recognize what powers he possessed and control them, otherwise he could hurt, even _kill_ people.

He needed to learn control. Period. His mind was always the key to his effectiveness. His body was just a weapon that his mind used, his mind _controlled_ it. He had always considered it simply as useful as his resources, his voice, his facial expressions. Now he had to admit that what was once as precise and controllable as a scalpel was now as clumsy and overwhelming as a hand grenade. Without control, his body was no longer a weapon, but a liability.

And there was the frustration. For as long as he could remember, he had grace, agility, power and precision in every movement of every limb and appendage. He still could control many things, but the speed at which he could move and the power behind the movements were absolutely unacceptable. Batman _needs_ control. His whole existence was about controlling everything around him and if he couldn't control it, he had a plan to use his lack of control to accomplish anything he needed. Either that or he'd have a plan to eliminate the uncontrollable from his world. Now he was trying to encompass his mind around the fact that the uncontrollable was a _part_ of him. His _body_ was the uncontrollable element, making his very presence a loose cannon in any situation. Without control over his own body, in his mind, he was absolutely useless.

At times, his strength was beyond anything he had ever experienced. He didn't feel stronger, but when he concentrated, he could easily lift much, much more than any normal human should. What was dangerous, however, was that he displayed that much power when he _wasn't_ concentrating – and even when he didn't _want_ to.

On odd occasions, he could hear the slightest sounds; things like humming from the computers at the other end of the cave, the high-pitched screeching of bats that humans shouldn't be able to hear, the vacuum Alfred was running 40 meters above his head through solid rock. The problem was that he heard these things at the oddest time and it was driving him nuts.

The rest was just guesswork. If he had heat vision or x-ray vision, he hadn't found any evidence of it. He credited the situation for his endurance and ability to work for days longer than normal without sleep. He could yell louder than a human, and blow his breath harder, but not at a sub-zero temperature. He could move ridiculously fast, but not nearly as fast as Superman or Wonder Woman and especially not as fast as Flash. As far as flight was concerned, he wasn't even sure he wanted to try.

What's more, he had to consider the possibility that some new things may develop over time as all of his research pointed to the conclusion that the effects of the weapon were gradual. He was slowly realizing that he wasn't much closer to understanding his new abilities or controlling them than he was when he started after returning from patrol in the wee hours of the morning. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed help.

Batman and Bruce Wayne have many connections, sources and people to call upon in their respective worlds. Usually they could interact anonymously with people to get the information needed, the deed that needed doing, or an item they required. However, what was always avoided at all costs was a favor from a person that would leave either Batman or Bruce Wayne in somebody's debt. He couldn't stand asking for favors from people he knew.

That's why it was so damn hard for Bruce Wayne to pick up the phone and make the call he was about to make. He sat at the console of the bat computer in his black sleeveless t-shirt and, sighing, put the receiver to his ear. The voice on the other end answered.

"I need your help," he said.

* * *

"Mr. Grayson?" 

"Yes… Hey!" Dick Grayson turned to see who had called his name. His natural smile widened when he discovered the stunning Ambassador of Themiscyra standing before him on the steps of the Blüdhaven police station.

"When you have a minute," Diana said allowing him to take her hand ceremoniously, "I need to talk to you."

Her demeanor indicated that she was alluding to the only subject in the world that Wonder Woman and Nightwing would _need_ to discuss. The fact that Dick's pleasant smile didn't fade despite the sinking feeling in his stomach was attributable to his years in 'the business'. He knew that somebody would want to talk about _him_ sooner or later, given the things that have been going on. And if nobody approached him about Batman, then he was eventually going to have to hunt down and corner a member of the League and pry some answers out for himself. It might as well be Diana, especially since she was looking like she was in that pinstripe skirt and crème blouse.

"Sure," he replied casually. "My shift is over in an hour. We could get some coffee at…"

"Actually," Diana uncharacteristically interrupted, "I was hoping to talk _in private."_

The slow enunciation of that statement and the piercing stare of her mesmerizing blue eyes suggested that this was _very _serious. Dick suggested that they meet at his apartment in 2 hours. With that settled and some common courtesies, the two parted ways.

* * *

Martha Kent waved goodbye to the last of the farm hands to pull his old pickup down the gravel drive of the Kent farm. As the dust drifted softly in the light breeze, she turned to see her son meandering through the barn, looking at the old tools and equipment stored in the bins and on the walls. She made her way over towards him and watched with mother's eyes as he stopped in front of a particular workbench at which his father had spent so many hours. 

"Penny for your thoughts."

Clark turned to see her smiling face.

"I was just looking at dad's old workshop," he confessed. "He spent so much time working on things here, fixing machinery. Do you remember the wooden toy car he made for me?"

"Yes, I do," Mrs. Kent replied walking closer. "You used to roll that thing down the stairs and race it to the bottom."

Clark smiled and nodded at the fond memory.

"How was your visit with Lois last night?"

Clark looked at his mother with raised eyebrows.

"You should know, weren't spying on us?" he joked.

Mocking hurt, Martha put her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't do _that!_"

"She's doing well," Clark said turning and leaning back against the workbench. "She said that she was able to finish one of the stories I was working on. Perry White told everyone that I would be out for at least a month…"

Martha turned her head nonchalantly to one side.

"A whole month off… Now," Clark said rubbing his chin, "I wonder where he got an idea like that…"

"You can't blame me for wanting to spoil my son!"

The mother took her son's arm as they shared a quick laugh and started walking slowly out of the barn towards the farmhouse. She continued to poke and prod for information about his visit with Lois; why she happened to stop by, what they talked about, if she would come back again.

Clark had to admit that he was somewhat surprised that Lois had stopped by unannounced. She claimed that she was following up on a story in another town and was on her way back to Metropolis. Smallville just happen to be 'on the way home' so she stopped by – it was a last-minute decision. The whole story sounded too convenient, but Clark didn't call her bluff.

As far as the whole tone of the evening; perhaps it was because they were sitting in the living room where Clark felt most comfortable in the entire world, perhaps it was because Lois didn't know how to behave around him in his weakened condition, but for some reason, during the whole 3 hours they sat and talked over coffee and snacks, it seemed like their usual roles had been reversed; Clark was the calm one, in control and confident, and Lois was the nervous one. She was the one asking the questions, sincere questions. They weren't questions about work or even about the 'accident.' No, she was talking to him like a person, not a pet or a contact or a source.

And there was a sparkle in her eye that Clark had only seen under certain conditions, namely; when Superman was present. They sat on the couch with a couple of candles lit and talked about the most obscure things that would come to mind. They sat on the porch – him in the rocking chair and her smoking on the porch swing. They looked at the stars and listened to the stray country noises that Clark was so familiar with. Lois commented more than once how quiet it was away from the city. There wasn't even the sound of breathing traffic, as the nearest highway was miles and miles away.

The part that Clark had been remembering so fondly was when he stood up and walked to the fence to get a better view of the stars. He leaned forward on it for a rest and she did the same, her shoulder touching his. The intimate proximity made him giddy like he hadn't been in a long time. He didn't want to read too much into it, but he could _swear_ that she was sending out signals.

Lois had given Clark quick kisses on the cheek before – it was nothing common, but also not completely foreign – she did it to a lot of people. However, as she was saying her goodbyes last night, her kiss on the cheek was a little longer, a little softer… her body was just a little closer to his than he had ever remembered. She left him with a promise that she'd keep in touch. She seemed to over-emphasize that by 'keep in touch' she meant that she'd keep him up-to-date on stories at The Daily Planet and such. Clark had to fight the temptation to call last night a first date, but that's exactly how it felt.

As he recalled the pertinent things that he wanted to share with his mother, the older lady looked on reading more from his face than from his words. Although she didn't approve of her smoking, Martha Kent liked Lois Lane. She admired her spunk and determination. She had to admit that, for a military brat, she had been raised well with relatively decent moral standards. It was hard for anybody to ever see Lois Lane, Reporter, settled down with children, but if she tried, Martha could see it and it could only happen with her son in the picture, she was sure.

Clark had talked with her about Lois before. So many times he had confessed his feelings for her and weighed the option of telling Lois the truth about his dual life. Martha had always enjoyed listening to him as he would vocally debate the whole issue out loud with himself. She was never asked 'what do I do', and she never tried to tell him what to do. She and her late husband had long ago stopped telling him what to do because they had long ago believed that they had raised him well enough and he had a strong enough character to _know_ what he should do. Martha was simply his sounding board. She could offer a mother's or a woman's perspective to many of his questions. But at the end of the day, Clark would arrive at his own decisions. Rarely had Martha disagreed with his conclusions and on those occasions, she had discovered that her son was able to admit mistakes and learn from them… and so could she. He was a good boy and she would never stop being proud of him, she knew.

Stepping slowly up onto the front porch, Clark was concluding his thoughts about Lois Lane and their 'date' the night before. He disclosed how he was looking at a possible relationship with Lois in a new way now. Now that he was no longer Superman, that is. Now that he could live life like a normal, mortal human. Now that he could spend more time in Metropolis and less time in orbit with other aliens and strangely-powered people in odd costumes. Clark Kent was confessing that, after a night with very little sleep and a lot of contemplation, he had concluded that he was going to 'go for it' with Lois Lane, and if that required telling her about Superman's true identity, then he would.

Martha listened with untold joy in her heart. She had loved Superman as much as anybody, but with this latest incident, she believed it was time for Clark to hang up the cape and retire from the hero business. Lois Lane was the perfect conduit to that goal. And it seemed that Clark was ready for that life too.

As they walked through the screen door into the modest home, Clark's cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"I need your help."

* * *

"What's he done this time?" 

Dick, off-duty police officer and Diana, the Ambassador of Themiscyra were sitting in his apartment, comfortably dressed in plain clothes discussing Bruce Wayne and Batman over freshly brewed coffee. Making herself at home on the deep sofa and tucking one foot under her, Diana sipped from her steaming cup before responding.

"Nothing," she started. "That's the point."

Dick was aware that something was going on within the League, but only just. He had heard some information first from Alfred who, without divulging too much, let it be known that Batman had gone through a harrowing experience. Wally West, Dick's old buddy, also spilled a little information about Superman being in a coma, then losing his powers, although it was only a rumor at the time. Finally through small clues he gathered from a 2 and half minute phone conversation with Bruce himself, Dick was able to figure out that his adopted father was going through something serious in his life. Although that part was over a week ago, Dick hadn't heard of much else since, so as far as he knew, something may still be wrong.

"So, 'nothing' is bad, then?"

Diana spelled out the whole situation from start to finish leaving out nothing except the intimate parts between herself and Bruce. He didn't need to know about that. She described the whole episode to the young man that knew Batman better than anybody in the League and knew Bruce better than anybody but Alfred. The police officer had been involved with critical thinking for most of his life and he had learned it under the direct and uncompromising tutelage of the best there was. With his hands steepled in front of his face and his deep eyes unmoving, unblinking, like a statue, he absorbed every melodic word Diana said. He heard everything she said and many, many more things she didn't.

"… he could not even scratch his own skin with the blade…"

Dick finally showed signs of humanity at that. He turned wide-eyed towards the lovely face that was now showing lines of concern. The immediate implications of that statement boiled so many thoughts within his head. _Batman has powers?_

"What else?" Dick interrupted.

"Well, nothing," Diana answered, amazed at how much Dick could sound and even behave like Batman at times. "He has only been up to the Watchtower a few times since then and he refuses to discuss it with anybody."

"Hmmm…"

Diana picked up an end table decoration and idly fumbled with it while Dick sat in quiet contemplation over the whole situation. She didn't want to stare at his handsome, young face but her curiosity and patience were battling within her. She tried to read every shift of his eyes, every tightening of his lips, every heaved breath and head nod. All these little motions betrayed nothing of what was chugging through his mind, only that he was deep in thought. Eventually, he shook his head ever so slightly and looked at her warmly.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he said casually to her disbelief.

"Wouldn't worry about it?!"

"No, don't worry about it."

At Diana's expression, Dick explained his answer.

"Bruce has spent his whole adult life mastering his own mind and body," Dick started, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "And, as I'm sure you know, one of the biggest reasons he agreed to cooperating with the Justice League, besides the obvious, was to make sure that those with as much power as Superman… and _you_ … and the rest, didn't go rogue."

Diana did _not_ know that and she tried to not look offended by that revelation. Quickly considering it, she logically accepted it on a professional level. She had known great warriors to loose their senses when promoted to positions of power. She never considered that that could ever happen to her, but she could understand how somebody else wouldn't be so sure. Still, it did hurt to hear that there was a part of Bruce that didn't trust her.

"If anybody can adapt," Dick continued, "to having super powers suddenly thrust upon them, it's Bruce."

Considering that statement, Diana had to agree. It was even a relief for her. The thought that Batman, that _Bruce_ would be the same person he had always been was something that she hadn't considered up to that point. But the facts fit Dick's theories. Bruce Wayne has virtually unlimited resources, which gave Batman virtually unlimited power. So many people had used methods, fair and unfair, to become more powerful. So many villains and so many heroes used technology or knowledge or resources to become something 'more' than human. Yet Batman, with more know-how and more resources than almost anybody on the planet, had not. Why? Because he didn't _need _to. He didn't _want_ to. He was strong enough without it. He wasn't the power that needed regulating. He was the regulation to power – within Gotham, within the League itself.

"And as far as the near-death experience," Dick continued, "C'mon… He's been through so many of those before… Yeah, this one may be a little different, but he'll get over it. In fact, it sounds like he has already."

"You're right," Diana said with a discovering smile. "I have been so worried thinking about the details, that I had forgotten the… _big picture_ is it?…"

Dick nodded.

With that little breakthrough, Dick could see that his guest was much more at ease and comfortable. They spent the next half hour pleasantly talking about a variety of subjects from fighting crime to Alfred's legendary pancakes. Dick had to hide a smirk when Diana said that she hoped that she could enjoy a big stack one day, not realizing that she just inadvertently admitted to wanting to eat breakfast with Bruce Wayne – and all that implies.

She left that evening feeling much more relaxed about the whole situation. The loss of Superman's abilities was still a major concern, but Batman no longer was. She walked with a lighter step down the hall to the elevator. Behind her, Dick closed the door, not smiling and already thinking about how long it would take to ride his motorcycle to Wayne Manor if he left in 15 minutes.

_She bought it…I only hope I'm right._

* * *

Clark Kent stepped into the cavernous foyer of Wayne Manor. The impeccably dressed butler closed the heavy oak door behind him and motioned towards the drawing room. 

"It is good to see that you're up and about, Master Kent," Alfred said politely.

"Thank you, Alfred," Clark replied just as politely.

Clark sat down in the ridiculously comfortable easy chair and rested from his long ride. Bruce Wayne had called the limousine company nearest Smallville and hired them to pick up Clark at the Kent Farm the minute Clark had agreed to make the trip. He had a hard time convincing his mother that he'd be OK on such a long drive, but eventually, she had to acquiesce. The stretch limo was as comfortable as could be expected for the journey and Clark was none the worse for the wear.

"Can I get you anything, Master Kent?" Alfred asked obligatorily. "A drink perhaps, or something to eat?"

"Could I get some ice water, please?"

"Of course!"

As Alfred turned to leave, Clark shifted in his seat. His chest would still hurt if he sat in the wrong position for too long and he would occasionally get headaches if he overexerted himself.

Looking around the room at all of the fine furnishings and the classic décor, Clark Kent thought about a young Bruce Wayne growing up in such a place and how different it was from the farm of his childhood. It was difficult, at times, to remember that Batman came from such a world and that Bruce still lived in it. The differences between the origins of the two men were so acute that Clark looked at Bruce in almost an unrecognizable way when he entered.

"Thanks for coming."

Bruce's tone was cordial enough, yet not very warm. He was casually dressed in black slacks and a charcoal gray rugby shirt. For a second, Clark almost compared his demeanor and the setting to those of Lex Luthor.

"No problem," Clark responded, "What can I do for you?"

Bruce motioned for Clark to keep his seat as he sat down on the leather sofa adjacent. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Bruce bypassed all small talk and got straight to the point. Taking a second to consider which one of the many opening phrases he had considered in the hours since the original phone call, Bruce sighed and began speaking.

"Clark, I'm having problems controlling myself."

The plain way he stated it, the look on his face… Clark knew that there was frustration hidden there somewhere. Bruce Wayne didn't ask for help or favors. He assigned tasks. Bruce doesn't loose control, he commands it. This was something serious.

When he left the farm he had been thinking long and hard about why Bruce would have called him and asked for help. The conversation over the phone was brief – Bruce needed Clark's help and how soon could he be ready. Clark just acknowledged his availability within the hour and that was that. From the second he hit the off button on the phone, he had been wondering about what it all meant. It wouldn't be like Bruce to deceive maliciously… By the time the limo entered the outskirts of Gotham, Clark had resigned himself to the probability that Batman needed to run some tests on him in order to understand the weapon that was used on Superman.

Now he was left virtually speechless. For as long as Clark had known Bruce, he had never asked for help, not like this. He was the one that always helped others. For a moment, Clark wasn't sure he'd be up to the task, for whatever it was, it was sure to be momentous.

"What can I do?" Clark asked, trying his best to sound supportive.

Thinking for a second, Bruce motioned towards the den and the grandfather clock therein.

"I think I better show you…"

* * *

Batman brought a comfortable office chair into the Batcave training arena for Clark to rest in. The remnants and shards and debris of all the intense training and struggles that Batman had put himself through for were still scattered throughout the yawning cavern. 

Clark saw shattered cinderblocks and steel bat-a-rangs half embedded into the walls. Iron bars were bent in the oddest shapes. A small forklift was in the corner, its forks stacked with several concrete slabs with rebar handles protruding at different angles. The rubble and wreckage reminded him of the Watchtower training arena after one of Hawkgirl's more vigorous workouts.

Clark sat and watched as his friend picked up a steel bar at least an inch thick and bent it as if it were a garden hose. Clark reached for the bar to examine it more closely and almost tipped out of his chair at the weight. Bruce recovered both the steel and his friend and grimaced at his own thoughtlessness.

"As you can see," Bruce started, "I can do that when I want to. What I'm having trouble with is _not_ doing that when I _don't_ want to. That's for starters…"

Bruce sat on the edge of the stack of concrete slabs and told Clark about his encounter with the two muggers in the alley. As he talked, Clark tried as hard as he could to listen objectively.

The continuing pain and discomfort in his chest withstanding, Clark had not even begun to understand how drastically his life would be without his powers. When he considered going back to the Daily Planet and trying to live a 'normal' life, it hadn't occurred to him how many times a day he took his powers for granted. Not that he abused his strengths and abilities, just the opposite. He was fully aware that he used them when he did. But using them or not, he knew they were always there. There was a peace of mind that Clark Kent enjoyed, knowing that he had the ability to do what he needed to do – even without a cape. It was the reassurance that Clark Kent didn't need Superman to save him, should anything ever happen.

He had talked to Flash about it on monitor duty once just after the League formed. Flash had a particular point of view about how Wally West related to Flash's abilities.

"I kinda look at it like a spare tire, or a reserve parachute," Flash had said. "You hope you never need it, but you can go about your day normally knowing that it's there if you did, like in an emergency."

"Like a cell phone." Clark added.

Wally shook his head in pity.

Growing up and struggling to not only learn how to control his abilities, but to also learn to govern himself enough to hide them even in the face of the greatest temptations was not easy. Compounded with all the other trials of young adulthood, Clark Kent had relied heavily on the guidance of his parents. Over time and so many trying happenings, he found a happy balance between living a normal life and serving humanity as Superman. That balance had become so natural for him that it was instinctive, second nature. However, he knew that he had the ability to 'borrow' components from one life while living the other, should he need to.

Up until this very moment.

The painful yank of that heavy bar dropping into his hand served to remind him that his powers were indeed gone. His 'reserve chute' was a memory and any comfort he enjoyed because of the confidence he once had was also gone, he finally realized. Sitting there in an expensive office chair deep underground with a billionaire was far too real all of a sudden.

If he hadn't fully grasped "Batman" before, he did now. As Superman, Clark was one of the League, a member of… the _leader _of an exclusive club whose members were among the most powerful in the world. Six of the members of this organization had been endowed, one way or another, with special abilities. Those six were basically _given_ the right to be there. But one member had _earned_ the right, had fought and worked night and day for years to be there. No other person out of _six and a half billion people_ on Earth had done that or even could do that. Sitting there, in the presence of Bruce Wayne, Batman, his friend… Clark Kent realized that he truly was in the presence of greatness.

And Clark Kent also realized that he no longer had the right to be part of that club. He suddenly felt very small, like a simple farm boy from Kansas.

The overwhelming reality of it all was so much to bear. Never again would he be faster than a speeding bullet. Never again would he help those that couldn't help themselves. His contribution to justice could, from now on, amount to no more than any other normal person's. Clark Kent, who had only hours before, embraced the concept of trying to enjoy a normal life, was now forced to accept that he had no choice – he _had to _live a normal life.

As Bruce Wayne continued on as if asking how to change oil in a minivan, Clark Kent lowered his head to look at the concrete floor. His heavy sigh caused Bruce to take notice.

"Clark…" he tried. "KENT! You OK?"

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Clark said shaking his head out of the fog. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying that I can hear the heartbeats of the bats over head and it's driving me insane. I need you to teach me how to control it."

"Control… uh, yeah… uh…"

Clark slowly stood up and started pacing. He concentrated on suppressing the sorrow that had suddenly taken root and tried to return to the task at hand. Superman may be gone, but the morals and the work ethic that made him famous were still alive and well. So was his devotion to his friends. Those were Clark Kent's traits. One of the greatest men he'd ever known had just asked him for help. _Can't let him down…_

Clark mentally shifted into a mechanical zone. He recalled, factually, the lessons he learned while growing up. He tried his best to be objective about the 'tricks' he learned to harness his powers and control them, rather than succumb to them. Bruce listened as his former teammate listed the facts and talked about the frame of mind to assume for this purpose or that. The two men shared notes about the sensations they felt within their bodies as they called upon different abilities. It seemed like real progress was being made.

Clark was amazed at how open to suggestion Bruce was and how eager he was to learn, too. He had never known Batman or Bruce Wayne to be a student of anything. He was always the master. But considering things logically, he wasn't always so. There was a point in time when Bruce Wayne was a novice at _some_ things.

Bruce listened to his friend and teacher explain with journalistic description the mental and emotional control required to regulate his powers. Some things were lessons he had already discovered for himself. Some things were new and he mentally stored each one.

When Bruce had taken the time to try a few tips and tricks that Clark outlined, he concentrated hard on the task at hand. Bruce didn't notice when Clark sat down and turned his head away to hide his troubled expression. With each successful attempt at using his newly discovered powers, Bruce became more confident, more at ease. With each display of extraordinary strength or ability, Clark became more withdrawn, although he hid it so well.

Bruce was gently setting down two concrete slabs, each weighing more than the Batmobile, when he saw Clark holding his head in his hands. His first concern was that the physical demands of the journey from Smallville and the whole training session had been too taxing on his ailing friend. It was getting late, after all. When Clark looked up and Bruce could see the faintest hint of redness in his eyes, he understood it was more than physical pain and exhaustion.

Bruce Wayne then displayed his most amazing performance of the day; compassion.

"I think I've got it," he announced as if he hadn't noticed Clark's grief. "Y'know, all this is making me hungry. Let's go back up and see what we can find to eat."

Clark silently nodded and the two men started back towards the main portions of the Batcave. Bruce wasn't going to learn anything more from Clark today.


	6. Chapter 6: Moving On

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me. And I don't have a beta - any and all mistakes fall on my shoulders alone.

* * *

Chapter 6: Moving on 

_I is a pronoun._

_Now _that_ would get Mr. Reed in a huff… "I is a pronoun". That's a _proper sentence!

_Because I'm not saying that _I am_ a pronoun, but the word "I" _IS _a pronoun, like the words "he", "she", "it", "they" are all pronouns._

_That's another one… _They_ is a pronoun. Oh, this is funny!_

_Next time I see Mr. Reed, I'm gonna drop that one on him… Maybe I'll make a visit to the old High School as Flash just so I can get him riled up…_

"Meeting adjourned."

That was the only phrase that could take Flash out of his daydreaming that Saturday morning. He didn't waste any time gathering his pencil, notepad (complete with stick-figure doodles) and empty iced mocha cup and disappearing in a red blur.

Perhaps there was something in the meeting he should have paid more attention to.

_No._

_No, because if there was, GL would have kicked me under the table. J'onn would have gotten my attention telepathically. Shayera would have thrown something at me… Nope, whatever they were talking about for the final 23 minutes of the half hour meeting doesn't concern me. Especially not when I'm about to start an _8-day vacation!

GL, Shayera and J'onn have a bet going as to how many days would pass before Wally called for help of some kind – any kind…

Had Flash been paying attention, he would have heard that Copperhead had escaped from prison, the quarterly budget had been updated to include research into fuel efficiency technology for the Javelin, and LuthorCorp had filed claims with their insurance companies over the whole ACCORD incident. That last little item also had a sub-topic; the Justice League, as a whole, was considered a group of material witnesses and potentially even liable for damages. Not that Wally could have done anything about any of that.

With the meeting completed, and Flash already refilling his drink in the cafeteria before any of the other five were out of their seats, Green Lantern sat quietly while his colleagues were gathering their items. He was contemplating how the feel of the league was different without Superman – especially the meetings. This was the third Saturday meeting they'd had without him and the first one that he had organized and chaired. He critiqued the meeting and his own performance. Superman had always made it look so easy…

John Stewart is the epitome of integrity, bravery and honesty. He has leadership skills, organizational know-how, all that. Yet he has often felt humble around Superman. For more times than he cared to remember, John had found himself short of temper with a situation or a colleague, or perhaps dead-set on a particular course of action that had unfortunate, but necessary consequences. In those rare cases, it wasn't unusual for Superman to mediate a resolution or find better alternatives that John hadn't even considered.

John isn't vain enough to believe that he knows it all and he has butted heads with the Big Blue Boy Scout on occasion. Most of the time, he grudgingly conceded to Superman's way of thinking only to be surprised that Superman was indeed in the right. Of course, Superman has never displayed any attitude along the lines of "I told you so". Occasionally, John would be right and know it undeniably. Superman would find a quiet moment to admit it and actually apologize. It's hard to hold a grudge against that man.

That kind of leadership; humble and honest, was not found in John Stewart's Marine Corps, nor in the Lantern Corps. But it was found in the League. The League is different than a military structure. There are no Generals or Privates. There is no chain of command. Sure, there are varying degrees of experience in particular areas, and more than once, each member has learned something from one of the others. Even Batman has learned something from Flash on occasion. This kind of organization is the toughest to administrate, because everybody is equal. It's hard to say that there even_ could be_ a "Leader", but if anybody in the League were asked, they'd answer without thinking; "Superman is our Leader."

The leadership role was never officially outlined in any kind of formality. So it wasn't as if he was voted into power. However, he was simply the one that kept the group together. He didn't have the diplomacy skills, among other traits, that Wonder Woman has. He didn't have the tactical skills that Green Lantern has. He didn't come up with the plans and the information the Batman does. There were so many traits that Superman lacked, compared to the others. What he _did_ have, that none of the others possessed, was a little bit of everything. He was an "expert" at almost nothing, yet he knew enough about _everything_ to coordinate the whole group efficiently. He had a certain amount of aloofness to not be bogged down by one particular side of any conflict or point of view. At times, he would not make a decision about a situation until he was better informed, and that would drive Batman or Shayera nuts. But that was what made him fit the leadership position so naturally; he could take in the whole picture and see it from many sides in his mind. Only when he fully understood the big picture, would he make a decision. And it was usually right on the money. His natural common sense and the undeniable streak of 'good' in him ensured that.

Of course, he had made mistakes. Everybody does. And on some rare occasions, he had admitted that he was wrong or at fault about something. But even in those times, the others backed him up. They would all work together and turn a problem into an opportunity for something even better.

He was willing to do all the things for the group that nobody else wanted to do. He never asked anybody to do something he wouldn't have gladly done himself. Nobody got a 'shit job' unless it was necessary for one reason or another. And even if he had to assign some unsavory task to another member, he had a natural way to ask them that was sincere and made it almost sound like they were doing him a favor and they'd feel better about themselves for doing it. They would _gladly _do it for him.

Then there was his charisma. Superman had a presence that was undeniable. His rugged good looks didn't hurt. The press and the public _loved _that guy. His handsome face, always so quick and easy to smile at somebody, would put even his enemies at ease at times. And when he did smile – or scowl – there was no denying that he felt every ounce of the expression he wore. That kind of honesty and openness was infectious. People were drawn to him because his very presence commanded attention. No, he wasn't the leader of the Justice League on paper or in any by-laws, but he was the leader. It was a combination of who he was and what he was willing to do for the good of the League that made it so.

These meetings were another one of those 'little things' that Superman did for the League. Every member of the league had considered them a waste of time at one point or another. The Big Guy insisted on having them – if only to make sure the cohesion of the group was still in tact. He tried to make the more mundane ones a little informative or fun only to have Batman roll his eyes or Hawkgirl snicker. Now these meetings were another one of those 'little things' that reminded everybody that Superman was no longer in their ranks. It was more than his muscle that was missed.

As John Stewart, USMC, was sitting in his Green Lantern uniform he reflected over the meeting he just chaired. He was comparing himself to the standards of Superman. Power, strength and abilities aside, could he run a simple weekly meeting like The Big Guy? Maybe being a little overly critical, John had concluded that the meeting was effective and well run, with a couple of areas for improvement. He heard Superman's voice in his head gently offering advice and criticism over his performance. _Did Shayera sigh? Did Batman contribute anything? Was Wally awake?_

Batman didn't want to do it anymore. He had run the last two. The first one was for obvious reasons; Batman had to outline the findings and the consequences of the ACCORD incident. He was in the thick of it and had spearheaded the research into all facets of that investigation. The second meeting was much more conventional. Batman had assumed control of the meeting from the get-go and at the time nobody questioned why, or even wanted to.

A few days ago, Batman approached Lantern and recommended that he run the meetings from now on. He said that he had discussed it with Wonder Woman and she agreed. There was no mention about the other three members, however. If anybody had any objections, they didn't voice them. The one thing that Batman made clear was that he was still 'officially' a part-time, as-needed member of the League and a full-time member should administer Official League events. There was no reason to question his motives for it.

John wasn't sure he wanted to at first. Would it be taken as a sign that he was trying to take Superman's place?

As quick as he could be to find fault with the way the meetings were run, or the information put forth, the second Batman suggested he do it, he realized the magnitude of the responsibility. He had to organize and inform the goings on within one of the most powerful organizations in the galaxy.

During the meeting, Batman had been ominously quiet. He was as stoic as he had been during any other meeting, but since John was running this one, perhaps he was being a little more sensitive towards the actions of the others because all eyes were on him. John has no fear of public speaking, but he was trying to make sure he kept the meeting short (for Wally's sake), yet pertinent and informative (for everybody else's sake). Maybe John was reading a little too much into it, but he felt like Batman's blank expression had 'you're a novice' written all over it.

So as the conference room slowly emptied, John asked Batman to stay for a minute.

"I just wanted to see if this was worth your time."

"It rarely is."

That harsh response did little for Lantern's professional ego. For a second, he wanted to demand a reason for why Batman even bothered to show up, if he felt that these meetings were so useless. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it slide, knowing that kind of reaction was a 'defense mechanism' for his bruised emotions. He tried to think of another way to approach it.

"But it was as good a meeting as any of them."

That little addition was GL's reward for not getting exasperated too quickly. In fact, it was hard not to take it like a compliment, since it came from Batman, after all.

Nodding respectfully, the two men exited the conference room and turned up and down the hall in opposite directions.

* * *

Wonder Woman left the meeting room and headed directly to her quarters. Still in uniform, she gathered a fresh change of clothes and some workout gear into a duffle bag. She didn't know why she checked the clock – she didn't have monitor duty until Sunday afternoon and she had no professional or social plans scheduled. She was just going to the Watchtower gym to have a quick workout, a shower and do whatever else came to mind. This would be a good weekend to relax. 

The door mechanically swished open and the Amazon, with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder was standing toe-to-toe with the Dark Knight, whose raised fist had almost had a chance to knock. Her perfect complexion ran through a quick flash of surprise, then a hint of pleasure followed immediately by an all-business expression that looked a little too forced.

"Hello, Batman," she stated neutrally, delicately lacing a stray lock of ebony hair behind a perfect ear, "What brings you here?"

"You do."

"Really?" she said sarcastically, thankful to have a chance to cover her quick internal yelp of pleasure. "What can I do for you?"

"If this is a bad time…" he started as he turned.

"No!" she said too quickly for her own pride. "Uh, no, I this isn't a bad time, I was just on my way to go work out."

"Sparring?"

"No. Everybody else is busy. I was just going to…"

"Would you like to spar?"

A fleet of thoughts and emotions ran through the warrior's head and heart. The questions rolled through her mind at a blur. Was this personal or professional? Why her? Was this as platonic as it looked or was this a baby step in the same direction as the picnic that never was? If she agreed too quickly, would she look too eager, too… _easy_ is it? If she didn't look open to another opportunity, would he not present one to her? Should _she_ take charge? There were so many questions within her – she had no idea what to do and nothing from which to reference.

"Spar?"

"Yes, spar."

This was the first time since the incident in the Infirmary that he had gone out of his way to talk to her about anything not League related. Of course, sparring was simply an exercise, and in a roundabout way could be considered impersonal. But the fact that he went out of his way to offer a sparring session… was that even what he stopped by for?

"Sure," she smiled politely and stepped out of her quarters and turned towards the training arena. Whatever brought him to her door, she wasn't going to turn him away... besides, her pride reminded her, that would be rude. And she was _not_ going to read into this more than there was.

"Is that why you stopped by?" she asked as they marched down the corridor "To ask me to spar with you?"

"No," he said hinting at nothing in particular. "But since you were on your way, it sounded like a good idea."

"If you weren't going to ask me to spar with you," she started, tilting her head and slipping on as sly a smile as she knew how, "then what _did_ you want?"

"Doesn't matter."

_What does _that _mean? What brought him to my door? Why can't he just give me some answers?!_

_Oh this… MAN!_

Relationships with her mother and sisters were so easy compared to dealing with _him_. Sure, there were some complexities that one would expect. There were friendships and rivalries. There were hidden agendas and there was trust. The backstabbing was never long-lived and always forgiven or punished as the case may be. Ulterior motives and cryptic expressions or actions created tension, but there were ways to address them – officially or otherwise. All in all, easy.

But Batman… oh, how he befuddled her.

Her first impression of his appearance wasn't very favorable. Not that she disliked him, she simply found Superman and Green Lantern more pleasing to look at. But something since that first day of introductions had changed. Now, she would be in a good mood for the rest of the day if she saw the slightest hint of a smile – just the teeniest turn at the corner of his mouth, knowing that she had made him do it. What's more, she found that she would go well out of her way just for that goal on occasion. The logic of it escaped her when she tried to think about it.

Why did she feel so unsettled under his gaze? What was it about his presence that made her self-conscious? She had absolutely no reason to feel insecure about anything and she could count the number of times on one hand that she had felt that way on her home island. Now, walking side-by-side with him, she was suddenly uncertain about… something… but what?

She wanted him to smile at her. She wanted him to compliment her. She wanted him to acknowledge her. She had absolutely no idea why. She had never felt that way about anybody, and what's more she hadn't known anybody to even describe feeling the way that she was feeling – ever.

Not only that, but she wanted to be the one to _make_ him smile. She wanted to be good enough that he felt the _need_ to compliment her. She wanted to be significant enough in his eyes that he _had_ _to _acknowledge her. The duality of it had kept her up some nights confused about it, sometimes smiling, sometimes seething.

And then there were the other feelings, the ones her body obeyed. Physical love was not foreign on her home island. However, it simply didn't include a man. She had never felt any yearning for any of her sisters. In fact, up until about 15 years ago, she wasn't even curious about what her sisters felt when pairings occurred. But for some reason she hadn't deciphered, she had suddenly started questioning the motives behind some of the actions she'd witnessed when she saw kissing, touching, cuddling. She found that she was interested in discovering how she would feel if somebody had kissed _her_ that way. She found herself daring to ask questions that she hadn't considered her entire life. Then a few years ago she left the island and met Bruce.

Now she had those feelings of heat and arousal deep down inside. Her body reacted in ways she had never experienced and still didn't completely understand. There was a need to feel his arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers locked at the small of her back. She had started to take pleasure at the sensation of his body against hers when they sparred. She enjoyed the unexpected shiver down her spine when his knee would accidentally touch hers under the table in the cafeteria. She absolutely loved the melting in her core on the few occasions he locked eyes with her and drove his smile into her heart like a spike. And she had dared to dream about the texture of the stubble on his chin and cheeks against the honeyed skin of her neck.

And the picnic that never was… She didn't know what to think about that. It was the only time in her entire life that she didn't mind somebody taking charge, telling her what to do. She had taken orders and commands in battle, but those had purpose. This was different. Somebody else was in charge and it was only a _social _situation. He wasn't _trying_ to take charge, no, he was _in charge._ And she didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed the concept that something wonderful was happening in her life and it was because somebody cared enough about her to make it happen to her, for her. It was contradictory to everything else she had ever known. That kind of relief, that kind of revelation was welcome more than she would have guessed. She wanted more.

As the two teammates continued down the hallway, one continuing his obscure presence and one trying to pretend she wasn't obsessing about it, they came to the door to the training arena. Diana turned to go in but Batman did not.

Wearing a confused expression, she waited as he stopped after a couple steps and expectantly half turned over his shoulder back towards her.

"I thought we were going to spar," she confessed.

"We are," he smirked and the warmth grew a little more within her. "Just not here."

He turned and continued at a controlled gait down the corridor. Taking a second to realize that she was meant to go with him, Diana trotted to catch up.

"Then where?"

"My place."

* * *

It hadn't phased Batman at all to see Flash whiz out of the conference room after the meeting. There was nothing new presented (for him at least), but the information was well thought out and Green Lantern had done an admirable job presenting it. In Batman's estimation, the League was now as up-to-date as it needed to be on everything pertinent. He sat an extra second longer than he normally would, expecting somebody to try and squeeze some information out of him about his 'condition.' Nobody did. 

Rising up out of his seat, Lantern asked that he stay behind for a second. That made him wary. He mentally braced himself for tough questions that he was not willing to answer at this time. Thankfully, the tough ones never came.

"I just wanted to see if this was worth your time."

The relief he felt wasn't visible on his face. He was so good at hiding any emotion in the direst of situations, this was nothing. But he did feel relieved that Lantern wasn't trying to pry into the latest developments. Not with the first question at least.

"It rarely is."

Taking a second to gauge GL's reaction to a deliberately short and harsh answer, Batman could read from his expression that the conversation wasn't going anywhere else. It seems that he really did want to get some feedback about the meeting. Quickly, Batman appreciated the fact that GL had asked him, rather than any of the others for said feedback. In reality, it was a good meeting. And now that he understood that there was nothing else on his colleague's mind, he ended the short interaction with a compliment.

"But it was as good a meeting as any of them."

Respectfully nodding, the two men parted ways.

Batman's boots echoed though the metallic walls of the corridor as made his way towards the section of the Watchtower reserved for personal quarters. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for approaching that Amazon Warrior that haunted his dreams.

Batman had learned a lot from Clark Kent earlier that week. He had finally pinned down the secrets to controlling his speed and strength. He had learned how to control his hearing. He had tried many of the tricks that Clark mentioned about x-ray vision and heat vision and, so far, he didn't have any signs that he possessed those powers. Thankfully, no other 'symptoms' (as he referred to them) had developed, although the magnitude and quality of all the existing ones had increased immensely.

He was finally convinced he could control himself. What he needed now was practice. It was one thing to control his strength in a fixed situation. It would be another thing to control himself in the heat of a fight, where his instincts were just as insistent as his thoughts.

He knew almost immediately after he and Clark left the Batcave for a bite to eat, that he'd have to call upon a sparring partner, one that could take a super-human punch as well as deliver one. There were only so many people that fit that bill.

He knew almost immediately after realizing that he needed to spar somebody that it would have to be Diana. His gut told him that. He didn't even have to think about it, it was such a natural conclusion. Of course, it was so natural… too natural for his darker side to allow. For a day and a half he had to _prove_ to himself that Diana was the only one to approach. Then he had to prove to himself that his arguments were logical and not tainted by the twinge he feels when she innocently flutters her deep blue eyes under her magnificent long eyelashes.

Running through the strengths and abilities of each of the other members, he was able to logically conclude that she was the only _complete_ choice; she could physically dish it out, she could physically take it, and he could… trust her. Trust her for what, he still wasn't certain.

Maybe he felt he could trust her to keep her mouth shut and not reveal the true nature of his powers to the others until he was ready for them to know. Maybe he trusted her to be patient with him while he mastered his abilities. Maybe he trusted her because she hadn't revealed his secret identity to anybody. She was honorable, he knew.

What he absolutely refused to acknowledge was wiggling sense of anticipation he felt when contemplating a judo move with her sweaty body pressed up against his as their chests heaved, lips parted, eyes jousting, hands restraining, legs intertwined in a ballet of battle in sweatpants and tank tops. No, he was sure that had nothing to do with it.

Exhaling the breath he had held for longer than he would have, had he been more comfortable, he started down the corridor towards Wonder Woman's quarters. As always, he had a plan and a script. He was simply going to ask for her assistance. He had decided that 'assistance' was better than 'help'. Help sounded too personal. This was not personal. To deal with Diana on a personal level right now was out of the question. Now's not the time.

_God, I hope she doesn't mention the picnic…_

Straightening himself up to full height, adjusting his posture and setting his jaw, he raised the gloved hand to knock on her door. Before his knuckles hit the steel, it swooshed open swiftly to surprise him with her splendid figure.

"Hello, Batman," she started neutrally delicately lacing a stray lock of ebony hair behind a perfect ear, "What brings you here?"

In an instant, he read the situation.

S_he was heading out the door in a manner that suggested she had a specific destination... She has a duffle bag… She won't have monitor duty until tomorrow afternoon… She's on her way to work out… Perfect!_

He couldn't have planned it any better. Now he wasn't the one asking for 'assistance.' He can turn this to his advantage… he can _offer_ to spar with her… _he_ can assist _her._ Once again, The Batman had turned the situation around to put himself in control. Now he can forget about how the length and silky smooth appearance of her legs had worked the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy.

_Keep up the charade…_

"You do."

The quick 'well, duh!' expression on her face told him that his vantage point of control over this situation was still in question.

"Really?" she said, sarcastically. "What can I do for you?"

_This was a bad idea. Get out… get out now!_

"If this is a bad time…" he started as he turned.

"No!" she said quickly. "Uh, no, I this isn't a bad time, I was just on my way to go work out."

_YES!_

Her immediate protest to his departure helped reinforce the illusion of his control… this time. He could take advantage of that. Not to mention the open-ended statement of her destination. She didn't invite him along, but she didn't specify that she was going alone or with somebody else. She had left herself available for his company…

"Sparring?"

"No. Everybody else is busy. I was just going to…"

_OK… 'everybody else'… she's separating herself from 'everybody else'… she's signaling that she'll be alone, that she's open to company… Keep it platonic… Take control._

"Would you like to spar?"

"Spar?"

_Don't blow this…_

"Yes, spar."

_She's hesitating… not in a bad way… she'll accept. And you're just going to spar… this is a workout with a colleague… this is NOT a date…_

"Sure," she smiled politely and stepped out of her quarters and turned towards the training arena.

_BINGO! Now she's the one responding to the situation… don't walk so close to her… should I accidentally brush her hand with mine as we walk? That would really test the waters, wouldn't it?! No, don't do it. Keep it honest._

"Is that why you stopped by?" she asked as they marched down the corridor "To ask me to spar with you?"

"No," he said hinting at nothing in particular. "But since you were on your way, it sounded like a good idea."

_So much for honesty. But it wasn't a total lie – I was going to tell you about my abilities too. Keep her guessing…_

"If you weren't going to ask me to spar with you," she started, tilting her head and smiling, "then what _did_ you want?"

…_just like that!_

_SHIT! That smile… those white teeth… the way she cocks one eyebrow up…easy, old boy!_

He was instantly grateful for the white lenses concealing his eyes. She hadn't seen him looking at her. He also inwardly applauded his own training and was grateful for the fact that his expression, posture, pace and breathing weren't telegraphing the effect she was having on him by simply… walking… by his side.

By his side…

_Drop it, tough guy… don't tip your hand…_

"Doesn't matter."

_She sighed… _that_ got her!_

Acting was undoubtedly one of Batman's greatest abilities. He had become a more seasoned thespian than anybody in southern California, London or New York. What's more, he knew it. Sure, he was type-cast, but he fit the role so well.

He had successfully managed to turn the tables on an immortal warrior princess formed by the gods. He felt a little smug about it, taking control of situation involving a woman that could… no… _used to be able to_ snap his neck with two fingers, given the chance. The brief moment of relief from his previous hesitation allowed him a slight boost in confidence.

Control.

Illusion.

_Now you aren't as much of a slave to those luscious red lips…_

His original plan was to ask her to accompany him to the training arena in the Batcave so they could work _undisturbed_ (not in private!). Just like with Clark, Diana would help Batman regain the domination in his life. And they would do it _his_ way, on _his_ terms and in _his_ world. He never had any intention of working out on the Watchtower.

He knew that, eventually, all the members of the league would have to be made aware of his new abilities. But not yet. Not until he had mastered them. Batman is never found in a situation for which he has no answer. He had to uphold "Batman" in their eyes for his sake as well as theirs – after the loss of Superman, they don't need the thought of a less-than-reliable Batman on their minds.

He predicted that Diana would naturally assume that they would go to the Watchtower training arena. After all, that's where they had always sparred. She never had the occasion to visit the Batcave training arena, to see the Batman in his own element. Today she would.

Even if he hadn't turned the tables by the time they reached the teleporter room, he was going to use the Batcave's environment as a tool to put himself more at ease. The fact that the tables _had_ turned simply meant that her little trip into his world would be icing on the cake. As they approached the door to the Watchtower training facilities, he knew exactly the right 'finishing touch' that he would throw in to seal the deal… he wouldn't _inform_ her of their real destination until she had just a touch of confusion.

Then he would truly be in charge… for the moment at least.

He took exactly two steps past her as she paused, allowing him to turn over his shoulder rather than face her. He caught the trace of confusion in her face and her posture… her perfect body with its perfect posture…

"I thought we were going to spar."

"We are," he said softening his voice to just outside of Batman range. To complete the picture, he donned Batman's equivalent to Bruce Wayne's deadliest sexy stare – the Bat Smirk.

"Just not here."

He turned and continued down the corridor at a gate a little quicker than before. This forced the proud warrior to have to hurry to catch up. Again, she was adjusting to his actions – he was in control. Only just, but he was. And that was the way he needed it to be.

Anything else and he would have been completely and utterly at the mercy of the woman he desperately loved.

"Then where?"

"My place."

* * *

**AN: Thanks to all that have read and followed this story so far. It's a long one, I know. I think you'll enjoy where it goes. I have to ask for your patience, however, in that it does take me some time to get the chapters the way I want them to be. **

**AN: A very special thanks to all those that have reviewed the story as well. This is the second FanFic I have ever written and I am constantly wondering if I'm doing OK or just wasting memory space on the FanFic web hosts' machines. I try to reply to everybody, but for those to whom I cannot reply privately; **

**To TONY:  
Will Clark stay on the sidelines for long…? Dude! I can't tell you THAT… It may spoil future chapters. I will say that he doesn't go away… Thanks! **

**To CAMELOTLADY:  
I agree, you gotta feel sorry for Clark – after all, what a come-down to go from being Superman to being… well… NOT! Thanks! **

**To DAXO:  
One could almost feel sorry for any bad guy that went up against Bats at all… now that things are…well… different… hoo doggie! Thanks!**

**And one last extra special thanks to the author that wrote so many great stories and drabbles that I finally broke my electronic silence and started submitting reviews. Then I started writing stories. You keep me honest and inspired with your work. You know who you are. Thanks a heap!**


	7. Chapter 7: Roll With It

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

**AN: I don't have a beta. All errors are mine alone.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Roll with it 

Clark Kent sat behind the wheel of his new car and turned the key. Waving his third goodbye to his mother, he pulled down the gravel driveway of the Kent Farm and headed towards the Interstate. He was moving back home.

His mother had driven him to Metropolis twice in the past week so he could take care of some things at his apartment. The mail had piled up, the milk had expired and some fresh fruits and vegetables weren't so fresh any more. Mrs. Kent smiled with pride to see that Clark clearly had remembered to empty all the wastebaskets before he headed out on Justice League business that fateful day.

Now Clark was heading back to his home to try to pick up life as a citizen of Metropolis, sans the mantle of Superman. He had the remainder of the weekend to unwind in the city and then he'd try his hand at going back to work at the Daily Planet on Monday. He was hoping for a discreet, unceremonious reentry to the workplace.

Lois had called him once or twice and he had returned the courtesy about the same number of times. She had kept him up-to-date on some of the stories that she was working on. He happily listened as she went on and on. Every once in a while, she would stop and ask him for his input. She didn't bug him for spelling tips anymore - her computer usually helped her on that. But she really did seem interested in his opinions on how she had phrased or worded a passage, or how she could go about investigating a lead or cornering a reluctant politician.

It wasn't as if she had never asked Clark for his two cents' worth before. However, she had never actually bothered to wait or listen to his replies. She would either change the subject or answer her own question out loud before he even got "Well, gee, Lois…" out of his mouth.

These past couple weeks, though, Lois Lane was actually having _conversations_ with Clark Kent. He couldn't help but feel optimistic about the way he was feeling about the whole situation. That kind or respect really made him feel appreciated. It had been a long time since he felt that way without wearing a cape. The icing on the cake was that she hadn't actually mentioned Superman since his 'accident'. To Clark, that was a double blessing, because if she had, he would have had a stark reminder of the part of him that was gone.

In the Batcave, helping Bruce recover what he had lost, Clark had sunk to the lowest he had been since the ACCORD incident. The reality of it all was profound, and the impact was compounded by the fact that he was tired and still relatively uncomfortable, physically speaking - his chest was still very sore.

He spent that night in one of Bruce Wayne's many luxurious guest rooms. That alone was an adventure for him. In the morning, Alfred Pennyworth had lived up to his reputation by providing a breakfast of the highest quality. Clark quietly enjoyed the ambience, and Bruce, to his credit, didn't even bring up anything superhero related, although he did ask if there was anything that Clark needed.

It had taken some time, but Clark had learned to accept his current condition – he refused to think of it as permanent. If his physiology could be affected in one way, then he was certain that it could be restored. He had the utmost faith in Batman and J'onn and all the others that were helping out. It was this little spark of hope that he would eventually feel complete again that helped him get over his depression so quickly.

He would have eventually gotten over it in any event, it may have taken longer, but he would have. After all, Clark Kent and Superman have the same soul. Their spirit and determination and optimism and faith were all tested, but not crushed. It was those personality traits and their nature that made him so resilient. Clark Kent was down, but not out.

The memory of Lois's visit and their quiet phone conversations served as a release for him as well as a form of motivation. He grudgingly realized that he wouldn't be back at The Planet in the week he had first offered, but he sure wasn't going to take the _month_ that his mother had reserved. He didn't want to rush things, but he wanted to get back to Metropolis, The Daily Planet and Lois as soon as he could… within reason.

Not long after returning from Wayne Manor, Clark renewed himself. He was up and about the farm with a new sense of purpose. He started slowly, just walking around and working up his stamina. Within a couple days, he was trying to help out with little chores, much to his mother's disapproval. By the end of the week, he was up with the sun and making breakfast for her.

Martha Kent couldn't decide if she was ecstatic or infuriated.

She hated to admit that she was deriving pleasure from Clark's injuries, but this time with her son had given her something she never had; an opportunity to take care of him, to spoil him. Clark was always healthy growing up. She never had the opportunity to pamper him the way she really wanted.

She was completely devoted to Clark and the memory of her husband. That devotion is her motivation. To have Clark around the house again was a tangible reminder of it. The woman hadn't loved being so busy in a long time. When she thought about all the miraculous deeds Superman had performed over the years, her satisfaction doubled, knowing that she was taking care of the man that had taken care of so many people. Part of her didn't want that to end.

On the other hand, she couldn't suppress the relief and joy she felt to see Clark recovering so well. She couldn't help the pride welling up within her to see that his morals and work ethics hadn't suffered one bit. She had told Jonathan's portrait how proud he would be of Clark, knowing full well that she believed he already knew. However, she grudgingly kept the constant realization in her mind that Clark was going to leave her again.

Acknowledging this, she decided that she wouldn't fight it any more, but help him reach his goal. She allowed him to do his chores. She went on walks with him around the farm as the sun sank over the rolling hills. She restrained herself when she saw him struggling with something simple, like carrying a load of laundry up the stairs. Clark was quickly on his own two feet again, thanks to her efforts as much as his own.

Now Clark was headed back into Metropolis. Martha had packed him a dozen containers of his favorite foods and snacks. She tried to send him off with all his clothes washed and neatly folded, only to discover that he had already done this. His insurance company had replaced his old car, the one that was totaled in the 'accident'. (He wasn't happy about what he still considered insurance fraud since, in reality, it was GL and Hawkgirl that destroyed his car. But he got over it when he remembered that the insurance company was owned by Wayne Enterprises) His car purred as he shifted into drive, waived one last time and headed out for the big city. It would be a long drive, but a relaxing one.

* * *

The first sensation that hit Wonder Woman as she finished her teleport to the Batcave was darkness. She unconsciously opened her gorgeous blue eyes unflatteringly wide, trying to adjust to the drastic change from the harsh fluorescent light of the Watchtower teleporter room to the secrecy of Batman's lair. Like a picture that was under exposed, there were a few objects she could make out, the rest was lacking in detail. 

Immediately after the darkness surrounded her, she breathed in the damp air. The cool, clammy atmosphere served as a drastic and sudden mood changer. She couldn't help feeling very forlorn in the ominous cavern. She could swear there were eyes following her from the shadows, although her abilities allowed her eyesight to adjust quickly and she could plainly see that there was nothing there. She took a second to glance around to take in all she could. In the back of her mind she heard Wally's voice say "creepy."

Batman purposefully and silently strode over to the main terminal of the massive computer consoles and typed in a few commands. Some lights hidden behind stalactites and in odd pockets throughout the cave started to raise their glow slowly. He typed a few more commands and the enormous monitor in front of him ran through a series of screens with various forms of data and statistics. He quickly glanced at the advancing pages flashing across the display and, being satisfied that there was nothing requiring his attention, tapped one more key and the screen went black with a dark red bat silhouette in the center.

Turning back towards his guest, who was patiently standing behind him with her duffle bag still slung over her shoulder, he motioned towards a rolling office chair at an adjacent computer terminal. He remained standing while Wonder Woman politely took her seat.

"Welcome."

"Thanks," she replied.

"I love what you've done with the place," she tacked on smiling playfully, imitating the domestic tone of voice commonly associated with that cliché.

Not bothering to acknowledge the jest, Batman turned the conversation a bit serious. Now that she was here, he could afford to let down his guard just a little.

"I have a confession," he said to her surprise. "I wanted to spar with you for a reason."

Not knowing how to take that, Diana's logic and anticipation collided within her.

"I have a condition that I need to deal with," he continued. "One that could affect my ability to function properly."

"Why didn't you bring this up at the meeting?"

"Because I believe it's something I can control with practice. That's why I brought you here."

"To… practice on me?"

Her expression displayed her uncertainty and growing wariness, perhaps even a touch of disappointment. The brief pause in the dialog begged him to explain.

"I'm having trouble controlling myself. I asked Clark for his assistance and he helped me learn a lot. Now I need to make sure I can apply those lessons in a fight."

His cryptic answers were starting to annoy her. What 'condition'? How would his fighting be affected? How could sparring with her help? _Clark?_

"You saw Clark?"

"Yes," he replied, not feeling very comfortable that her first response was about Clark Kent.

"How is he?"

"He's fine," he spat, growing annoyed, turning his head.

Diana sensed his tension. Batman clearly had something in mind, something that included her, and Clark was a topic best left for another time. Taking a second, she brought the topic back on track.

"What can I do to help?" she asked as warmly as she could.

"Spar with me," he said. When her expression suggested she needed more of an answer he added: "and forgive me if I hit you too hard."

With that, he turned and walked towards the Batcave training arena.

Sitting up straight and wide-eyed at that, Diana had to take a moment to process the meaning of that response.

_Of course… he _does_ have new abilities… he needs to learn to _master_ them._

"You _do_ have powers…" she whispered as she watched his back walking away.

"Yes," he said plainly, surprising her that he had actually heard her soft statement from that distance.

"Come with me."

Batman led Wonder Woman to the training arena where there was still some evidence of the exercises he had put himself through since Clark's visit. Without saying a word, he picked up a stack of concrete slabs as if they were so many shoeboxes and moved them gently out of the way. Turning over his shoulder to confirm the look of astonishment on her face, he added to that little bombshell by super speeding across the room and stopping just in front of her.

"Hera!"

As much as he disdained his 'symptoms' he loved affecting her like that.

"I'm… not trying to show off," he said with Bruce Wayne's voice. "I just wanted to show you that I can do things now that I shouldn't be able to do."

Staring into his cold white eye lenses, Wonder Woman nodded speechlessly. She had seen so many metas doing so many things; this display of strength and speed was nothing extraordinary. The fact that she witnessed Batman doing it was. Instantly she wondered about his limits. She could tell that Superman was stronger and Flash was faster than what he just displayed, but then again, she didn't know if he was exerting himself completely or not.

"I can do that when I want to," he continued, "and Clark helped me learn how to _not_ do that when I _don't_ want to. Now I need to make sure that I can trust my instincts in a critical situation."

"Aaaand… that's where sparring with _me_," Diana nodded understanding, "comes in."

"Exactly," he answered showing a hint of a smile.

And she smiled back, taking in a deep breath.

As she stared up at his masked face, she enjoyed the warm rush of adrenaline caused by mixed anticipations. She was about to engage in a fight. That always got her blood up. She was about to engage in a _big_ fight. That gets her juices really flowing. And it was going to be a fight with the only man that ever made her feel like crossing all the lines. That pumped enough excitement through her heart to make her quiver and grin with expectation.

Her wide, excited eyes sparkled a little more, her perfect mouth widened into a shameless smile.

"Let's do it," she said quietly, strongly.

Nodding and suppressing the urge to grin back too widely, he motioned towards a doorway.

"You can change in there."

* * *

Bruce Wayne stripped off the last of his Batman attire and saved emptying and restocking his utility belt for another time. He slid a sleeveless black t-shirt over his head and pulled a pair of pants usually used for practicing martial arts out of one of the many gunmetal drawers in his armory. Proceeding barefoot, he threw a couple towels over his shoulder, grabbed some bottles of water and traversed the catwalk back to the training arena and stopped just outside the closed door. 

Taking a deep breath, he regrouped his thoughts. This was going to be difficult. Fighting with a meta always is – even if it's just sparring. But sparing with _her_ was downright dangerous in so many ways. Not only because of her caliber of fighting, or her abilities, but because of the tension blatantly present between the two. He was done beating around the bush; he loved this woman. He had to forget that for just a little while if he could.

As the door slid open, he was met with another reminder of why he felt as he did.

She was kneeling on the padded floor in the center of the sparring area, profile to his point of view, praying. He stood silently, waiting, watching. Her flawless profile, her majestic posture, the look of calm and peace on her features were all so mesmerizing.

She had traded in her Wonder Woman apparel for more relaxed, modern clothing; royal spandex bicycle shorts and a form-fitting white tank top. The sports bra she had on did little to hide her ample bust, just secure it for the physicality of their plans. Like him, she was barefoot.

His silhouette in the doorway hadn't disturbed her from her ritual. She breathed deeply, slowly, in through her delicate nose, out through slightly parted supple lips. He studied every movement of her exquisite form as her shoulders heaved slightly and her flat stomach allowed the effort. His eyes glided along the soft shine of her midnight locks cascading down her gracefully arched back. He could see how the waves and curls were resting on her bare shoulders and he allowed a moment to ponder about how soft those locks against her skin would feel sliding through his fingers.

He visually traced the shape of her profile that was outlined so well, her bright skin glowing against the black backdrop of the cave walls in the distance. He could see how her delicate eyelashes rested gently on her cheeks. Her sleek arms bent gracefully through her silver bracelets and deposited her hands gently on her lap. How many thoughts had he spent on those hands, those eyes, that hair?

For a moment, he didn't want to move, didn't want to breath as if anything he did would disrupt the scene. He had forgotten that she was one of the most powerful beings on earth, not a whisper of perfection that would fly away at the least disturbance. This kind of beauty, purity was not part of his world.

As he enjoyed the moment of reverence, she curled a corner of her mouth up and spoke to him without turning or opening her eyes.

"You can come in, I'm almost finished."

He walked around the edge of the floor and tossed the towels on a bench. He spied one last glance at her out of the corner of his eye before he considered how to warm up. He was punished for that last liberty by the sight of her standing up in the most unfair way; she slowly leaned forward, placing her palms flat on the ground, her arms and back staying stock-straight. Effortlessly, she straightened her legs and her bottom rose up into a sharp acute angle offering him a haunting view of her fine posterior. To top of the sensual torture, she raised onto the balls of her feet, accentuating the length of her perfect legs.

_Damn it!_

As she stood up completely and turned towards him, she had caught the last portions of his efforts to try to shake his head free of his improper thoughts, then he tried again. She smiled at the sight; Bruce Wayne… Batman… taken out of his mindset… like a normal man. Then, she thought about the magnitude of that concept and how it applies to this particular moment. She had done that to him. Just the sight of her. For a moment, the implications of it dawned on her like a cool breeze, then the breeze turned warm as she cleverly formulated a plot to use that against him when the time was right. This was going to turn fun before it was over.

Bruce turned to face her head on and found her clear blue eyes locked masterfully onto his. It took him off guard – there was an unusual level of confidence in the smile she was suppressing, her hands on her divine hips. Seeing that she was all business in that expression, he immediately recognized that the sparring would be over before it started if he got stared down. That look, that _challenging look_ was what he needed to get his mind right. He could play this game too.

Bruce Wayne straightened to his full height over the barefoot warrior and looked down his nose at her and winked. The glimmer of surprise on her features would have gone unnoticed to anybody but the World's Greatest Detective.

_Let's dance!_

"We should warm up," she cooed.

"I agree," he countered.

He unlocked his gaze from her eyes and walked to small circle printed on the middle of the padded floor. Swinging his arms and flexing his chest as he squeezed a few breaths, he turned and bowed out of respect, then struck a very modest, defensive pose.

"Warmup's done," he stated plainly. "Bring it."

Shaking her head as she tilted it away from him, strutting with her hands on her hips, her tongue probing inside her smiling cheek, eyes rolling, she met him under the stark lights flooding down from the cave ceiling.

"Right down to business, huh?" she said eying him, striking her own fight stance.

"Well, lets start out slowly," he smiled, "and get to the heavy stuff later."

Nodding, she attacked.

Throwing a front punch that he easily dodged, she finished the move with a spinning backfist. Her limbed sailed through empty air and she found her final stance entangled with his legs. He had dropped to the floor and woven them around her calves. He rolled her to the ground and she used her momentum to continue the roll away from his follow up attack. He continued his move on the ground, twisting over and swinging his fist down hard onto the floor where her torso should have been.

The dangerous choreography continued on, blows parried, kicks blocked, throws executed and countered. Diana's signature grace and power were countered only by Bruce's trademark deception and anticipation. When she attacked with a strike, she found the target absent. When he made a throw, she would land ready to re-engage. Without his cape, he was still all but impossible to follow with her eyes. Without using her strength, he still could not contort her body into a vulnerable position or pose. The occasional light impact excepting, they were so evenly matched.

Neither would admit to being foiled as they both felt they were holding back just a little. But she would surprise him by countering a move that just a few months ago would have taken her down. And he frustrated her in more ways than one by providing a sharp swat on her ass as she missed her latest melee.

They twisted and flipped through the room, breaking a sweat and filling the air with vocal accompaniments to their barrages. She thought she had the upper had when he had made a move that prevented her from landing a kick, but finished with him rolling gently across the padded floor onto his back, and her poised like a leopard only a couple feet away, ready to strike.

Leaping into the air, she let grunt of effort escape her chest aiming to land on one knee driving her elbow at his throat. He countered by using one hand to redirect her blow enough across her body to turn her, while reaching over her shoulder with his other hand, pulling her on top of him, squeezing her back against his chest.

They lay there tense on the floor like that for a moment, breathing hard, sweat running, him on his back on the padded floor, she on her back across his chest. Panting, she let her head fall onto his strong shoulder, her hair spilling around the sides of his face. He marveled at how sweetly she smelled despite their workout.

"This... is fun," she said between breaths, "but when are we going to get to the _real_ action?"

Given the precarious arrangements of their bodies, his arm draped over he shoulder, just above her heaving, sweaty bosom, her curvaceous spandex-clad posterior resting dangerously on his hip, he thought for a fleeting second that she may be referring to a new dimension to their relationship. Then, disappointed, he realized that she was talking about his new powers. He hadn't called upon them at all throughout the whole engagement. He considered that for a moment. It would seem that he had control of it after all.

"I haven't had any problems so far," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know if we _need_ to do any more."

She unwrapped his arm from across her body and twisted into a kneel on the floor, looking at him.

"What do you mean?" she challenged. "You don't want to learn how to fight using your powers?"

He propped himself up on his elbows.

"Why should I?"

"Bruce…" she said disbelieving his attitude, "what if you need them?"

"Why would I need them?" he said as if he was talking about an unwanted birthday present. "I haven't needed them so far…"

"Yes, but…"

"But what?"

The attitudes were growing sharper; hers more challenging, his more defensive. Her wisdom prevailed over her exasperation. Sighing she continued.

"You seem to think of your new abilities as a curse. That kind of attitude is your choice, but to be honest, I'm a little disappointed to see it. The Batman _I_ know would learn to master every weapon in his arsenal whether he used it or not."

"Oh, so these symptoms are weapons now?"

"They can be, yes."

"I disagree. My body is the weapon, and now I know that I can control it when I'm engaged in a fight. That's all."

"That's all?"

"Yes, that's all."

He sat up and looked around.

"I've never needed anything that I didn't already possess or couldn't develop on my own. You consider these abilities _gifts_… I consider them liabilities… a chance that I may do something I don't want to do."

She listened impatiently, waiting to hear a gap in his logic so she could spring in and force him agree with her. That gap didn't come.

"I have _you_… " he nodded to her, " and Clark to thank for that. This sparring we've been doing, I told you before that I just wanted to make sure I don't wind up hurting somebody, or _killing_ somebody because of these _gifts._"

He continued on, explaining what had happened in the alley on his patrol when he unintentionally injured a suspect. In that incident, he was unable to control his actions, his body, his weapon. Now, with concentration and training, he had once again dominated his actions. He was confident that a repeat of the incident in the alley would not be repeated.

Diana couldn't disagree with the logic, although she didn't agree with his choice. She was half tempted to let it end at that and call it a day. But she couldn't silence the nagging inside her that was imploring her to make Bruce master that other side of him. As they stood up, she silently resolved within herself that he _had_ to test his new limitations. She would _force_ him to. It was for his own good.

She had so many reasons to do so, logical or otherwise; she felt that he _needed_ to know – just in case, she felt that the League needed to know – although she knew she wouldn't be able to convince him of that. Finally, she was just plain curious. And damn him, she was going to find out one way or another.

But how does one argue with Batman? How can one sway his mind when it's been made up? How can one present logic to counter his? Is he not the master at debate (among other things)? Well, she decided, he may have a keen mind, but the _gods_ gave her one too. And she had an advantage that she never really found a use for until now; a weapon that Wally and Shayera had told her about, but she never considered it potent. It was an ace up her sleeve that she never considered because she believed she should be able to achieve her goals through her efforts, not her gifts, not her _divine body_.

Calling upon the memory of the look on his face before their little sparring tryst, she harkened back to the affect that her presence, and her outfit she considered, had on this man. She had no practice what-so-ever on the art of seduction. She had no experience on deliberately using her sensuality for gain. She had witnessed other women doing it, for fun or for ill purposes, but never considered that there would be a need for it in her world. Now, she could say that these ends will justify those means. She only hoped she could do it. It was worth a shot.

Besides, it absolutely thrilled her to make this man uncomfortable in that way.

As they walked off the padded floor towards the benches and towels and water bottles, she stopped and took his hand. As he turned and looked into her sultry eyes, he was taken aback for a split second. That was the spark she hoped to see. Time to fan the flames.

Taking his other hand with hers and slowly, sensually raising them up in front of her luscious mouth, she started her attack.

"You know, Bruce," she cooed, delicately brushing his finger with her lower lip, "I was thinking…"

She heard his sharp inhale as she slowly turned her head from side to side, eyes closed, letting her mouth touch his hands ever so slightly.

"Thinking?" he said half dazed.

Then she struck.

She threw his hands straight up, exposing his full torso and threw a punch to his chest. She held nothing back, but unleashed all her strength and power in that one hit. He sailed across the room and slammed into the solid rock walls of the cave, shaking the entire complex, bringing dust and debris down from above. Somewhere, a computer alarmed.

"I was thinking that you should be more prepared," she accused with a harsh tone, "for situations that call for more than you're used to handling!"

Dislodging himself from the unintentional life-size Bruce Wayne indentation his impact made in the stone, he moaned and gritted his teeth. Recovering from the blow was easier than he would have thought. The pain from her strike, while severe, didn't last as long as it took for him to impact the wall – which he didn't even feel.

"Not fair, princess," he said regaining his feet.

"Get over it!" she commanded, flying at him full speed, her shoulder cocked to knock him down like a cheap door.

He saw the danger coming. He recognized that she was at full tilt. Normally, that wouldn't leave a human enough time to get scared. In his heightened state, however, he formulated 6 possible escapes, 3 with retaliations. He then chose a seventh, simple one. He pulled a 'Superman.'

Standing up tall, elbows back, chest up, chin set, he prepared himself for impact. She collided with him with a deafening thunder. He staggered back half a step, she bounced off a dozen feet and righted herself in midair.

"So that's what that feels like," he said half to himself.

He looked up at his hovering antagonist with dangerous abilities and, now it seems, even more dangerous curves. She had a smug look on her face of satisfaction. She had made her point.

Now he was going to more than oblige her.

"Alright," he said nodding.

With that, he leapt through the air, grabbing her delicious ankle and turning, swung her across the room from whence she came. She recovered in mid flight and used her momentum against the far wall to vault herself back at him, both fists aimed at his head.

He wasted no time testing his limits. By the time she had begun her return flight at him, he had closed the gap between them by more than half by running at her full speed. She adjusted her aim and he his. Gritting her teeth and lowering her chin, she prepared for impact. It never came.

At the very last microsecond, he dove directly over the princess and as their parallel bodies past in their flights, he grabbed her tightly around her trim waste and rolled her over. They landed on the padded floor, directly under where their bodies engaged, but he had already begun contorting her into his will. The final result of his efforts was her pinned face down, on hand under her own chest, one held captive behind her head and him straddled on the sensual cushion of her shapely bottom.

"Y'know," he whispered as only a playboy could, "this _is_ fun…"

She allowed herself half a smile at that, but immediately continued her assault. He can take a hit. He can dodge a hit. He can grapple and wrestle with strength. He's probably not going to throw any kicks or punches, she conceded.

_So, let's see what _else_ he can do._

She launched into the air, straight up, taking him with her on her back. Streaking up towards the stalactites 20 meters overhead, she challenged him.

"Can you _fly,_ Bruce?"

"No."

"You're in trouble then, aren't you?"

He released her hand, wrapped his legs around her body and swung down under her as they climbed. Now she would take the brunt of the impact, should she not stop. He had countered the move again. There was no denying he was good – even in a form of fighting he had never attempted. But in this kind of fighting, there were few masters. She was one, he wasn't… not yet at least.

She grabbed his sweaty black t-shirt with both hands and headbutted him unceremoniously. His grip loosened and she dropped him. He was in free fall towards the floor far below before he realized what she had done.

It didn't take him long to get over the fact that she had pulled such a crass move on him. But he did suffer a split second of grief when his hand instinctively went for a utility belt that wasn't there. He twisted in the air like a cat, trying to land on his feet. If he _could_ fly, now would be the time to find out. Not knowing _how_ to fly, he _willed_ his body to stop falling. He tried to _feel_ it in his mass. He concentrated on defying gravity, levitation. He didn't stop falling. He braced hard for impact. Then he hit the ground hard.

No pain.

Standing, he smiled and looked up at his friend only to find her expression of awe and… fear?

From her vantage point directly above him, she watched him plunge like a confused stone. As he twisted and fell, she watched as Bruce Waynes body became a blur of indistinct colors, then he disappeared from sight. Completely. She heard the impact of his landing.

Only the padded floor deforming under his invisible form gave evidence that he was even in the room.

"Great Hera!"

* * *

**AN: ****Please forgive the fact that the chapters are slow in coming.**

**I don't know if the FanFic pages are having trouble, but I haven't been receiving the reviews via email recently. So, I tried to reply to all reviews that were reply-able. If you didn't get one, let me know - my email address is in my profile.**

**As far as reviews that were NOT reply-able:**

**Daxo: Dick Grayson is my favorite Robin too!**

**Tony: I like the way you're thinking. How does Bats handle what's happening to him... how does the League adapt... how does Clark adjust? You'll have to wait to find out, I think you'll be a little suprised before it's over.**


	8. Chapter 8: Continuity

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

**AN: A little more evolution in the relationships... Both of these men will need the love of a woman to help them through.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Continuity 

When Bruce Wayne was a child, he watched a movie about a boy in a green costume who lived in a make believe world that could fly. It seemed the boy was able to will himself through the air at any speed and in any direction. At times, the boy moved as if running or swimming. Other times, he just floated in whatever direction he wished. Young Bruce Wayne pondered at what it would feel like to have that ability. He wondered what thoughts he had to think, what muscles he had to call upon to navigate weightlessly through his bedroom window and out into the night. He wondered if he would get the tingly sensation in his belly, like he did when he'd jump off the swings and sail for a brief moment like the boy in the movie.

Now Bruce Wayne felt a tingle. If he were so inclined, he would claim that he felt 'funny'.

He wasn't flying, although he had tried. Diana had hoisted him high up towards the top of the Batcave and dropped him, challenging him to test the limits of his new abilities. As he plummeted, he called upon that boyhood memory. He concentrated every thought he had towards defying gravity. He desperately tried to will himself to fly, to stop his acceleration towards the floor. In the few precious seconds he had before the drastic stop at the bottom of his descent, he tried everything he could think of, but still he kept falling. Despite the changes he'd been experiencing, Bruce Wayne, it seems, could not fly.

Just meters above the floor, however, he felt an odd sensation pop into his chest. It felt like an electric shock behind his sternum. At first, it was contained there, then it grew, spread throughout his body. Now it felt like a tremor in the core of his torso and radiated outward through his limbs, ending in a tingle at his extremities. His eyesight was slightly blurred and had collapsed into almost a form of tunnel vision. He had a hard time focusing on anything. At first, he believed that his mental efforts to accomplish unaided flight were paying off, until he landed on his feet with all the impact one would expect from a fall from that height.

"Great Hera…" he heard whisper from high overhead.

He straightened up, barefoot on the padded floor of the Batcave's sparring area, his head tilted back to face the beautiful, yet bewildered face of his precious Diana as she descended from amongst the stalactites. He followed her with his eyes as she slowly sank to land softly, gently in front of him, her graceful bare feet not making a sound as they touched down. She stood there quietly looking in his general direction, but not actually at him. Hesitantly, she raised a supple hand and reached for him.

He was concentrating on the feeling, perpetuating it, continuing the tingle. He didn't know if he liked the way it felt or if he should even be feeling it, but whatever it was, it was obviously the cause of Diana's odd behavior. He mentally focused on the feeling to maintain it until he knew enough of a question to ask. As her hand drew closer towards his chest, he silently stepped back away from her, unsure as to why. Diana's hand swiped through empty space where he was just a second ago.

With that, he let the feeling go and witnessed the astonishment in Diana's eyes as her stare was able to once again focus on his face.

"What just happened?" he heard Batman's voice ask.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said uncertainly.

Looking around, at his own hands, up towards the spot where she had dropped him, he repeated himself. A little more alarm than he comfortable hearing tainted his voice.

"What just happened?"

"You… _disappeared_."

She closed the distance between them and her warm hand finally found its target on his chest. He looked down into her eyes unable to read what they told. His own expression contorted into a one of confusion, contemplation. His eyes wandered to the side as his mind raced.

Diana broke into an excited smile and let a girlish giggle escape as she covered her mouth.

"Bruce," she guffawed, "you _disappeared!"_

Looking over her shoulder at the door leading towards the rest of the Batcave, he stepped around her with determination and marched across the padded floor.

"I heard you the first time."

Trotting to catch up, Diana pressed the issue.

"What did you do?" she pried, still smiling, the excitement building. "Did you know you could… no, of course you didn't… this is _amazing!_"

She wasn't intimidated by the glare he shot at her, not one bit. He continued his way towards the main computer console, took a seat in the high-backed chair and typed a few commands. The main screen lit up and all the little monitors around him sprang to life. Turning towards a monitor on his left, he cycled through a series of black and white images that showed different angles of the Batcave, Wayne Manor and the grounds. Stopping on that of the training arena, he commanded the surveillance footage to rewind a few minutes and transferred the image to the main screen.

Diana watched over his shoulder as she saw herself sparring with Bruce on the screen. He skipped around the video until he found the point in time he was looking for. Diana was pinned face down on the mat and Bruce was straddling her spandexed bottom. The two launched into the air straight up and off the top edge of the screen. Within a second, Bruce's body was seen falling back into view, twisting in mid-air.

Hitting a button, the image paused. Tapping on the 'step forward' button, the image advanced one frame at a time. Bruce's body was falling about a foot per frame. Within a dozen steps of his body entering the screen, the image became blurry.

Bruce advanced the screen frame-by-frame and watched as his body disappeared through waves of blur. He scrolled the image back and forth, quickly and slowly, zooming in and out, again and again and again.

Behind him, Diana watched, excited and giddy at this new development. When she grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands and squeezed, she was rewarded with a cold shrug.

"This is nothing to be happy about," he scolded.

"What?!" she shot back. "Are you _kidding me?_ Bruce, this is absolutely amazing! I've _never_ seen anybody be able to do that!"

"That's because people _shouldn't_ be able to do that!"

He turned his chair and got up, walking away from her. She followed, trying to present her case.

"People shouldn't be able to lift 8 tons with one hand either, but you can do that too!"

He shot her a look as if she had just insulted him. And in a way, to him, she had. He had just gotten over grasping the concept of having new abilities. He had worked for days and days to understand them, accept them. He was finally starting to believe that he had everything in his life back under his control again, only to be ambushed by this latest development.

He understood her enthusiasm. He just greatly disagreed with it. He believed that, to her, another power was akin to a child acquiring a new toy, or a rich man acquiring a new summer home. She had been made with powers. Her gods _gave_ them to her. She would gladly accept another, had it been given to her.

He, however, was _not_ a creation of any fantastical gods. He was a real man in the real world and dealt with real punks with real guns on real streets. These powers, these abilities, these… _symptoms_… were not supposed to be. He didn't ask for them and he certainly didn't want them.

Had he taken the time to apply a little self-psychoanalysis, he would have discovered that there was something inside him that was _afraid_ of them.

But what really scared him the most was that, for a moment… when he and Diana were power-sparring… when he felt that ping of energy radiating through him… he almost dared to like it.

* * *

Clark Kent flipped hopelessly through the worthless and endless television channels. He had tried to watch the one channel that was supposedly dedicated to telling people what's scheduled on all the other channels, only to find that most of the screen was devoted to some forgotten dinosaur of a comedienne and her mindless, worthless drivel about happenings on a red carpet somewhere. Like every other person he knew, he couldn't stand that for a second. So, he started flipping. And flipping and flipping and flipping and wondering how much money it costs to produce a television show about fishing and why anybody would think that poker competitions belonged on sports channels. It didn't take long for him to remember why he hated watching TV. 

Unfortunately, right now, there wasn't much else he could do. Still tired from the move and the settling back to his own apartment in Metropolis, Clark was trying to make sure his life was in order again. He was going to go back to the Daily Planet in the morning. He wasn't sure what it would be like.

He knew that he would be testing his limits. He hadn't had a day without at least one nap since he left the Watchtower. Perry would certainly understand if he asked to go home a little early, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Flipping through the channels, he stopped on his preferred news station. Maybe catching up on local Metropolis events would get him in the mood for journalism. Putting the remote control down and reaching for the glass of grape juice on his end table, he heard the story topic change to a cover story of a robbery on the far side of town – and the day was saved by none-other than Superman.

Slightly amused, he watched the shaky footage as the Man of Steel carried a dazed suspect in each hand like a couple of sacks of potatoes and deliver them to the police. Waiving mechanically to the crowd, the hero shot up towards the clouds. The camera watched as he flew up, up and away, then panned back to the police putting the arrestees in the back of their vehicle.

"A little stiff, J'onn," Clark smiled. He mused about having to give the shape-shifter pointers on Superman's personality the next time he saw him. He even predicted how the Martian may reply to a little constructive criticism. Then he realized that he may never get the opportunity.

He didn't have a League communicator any more. They had taken it off him when he was in the infirmary. He asked to get it back when he was teleported down to the Kent farm in case he needed to contact them. Flash had jokingly told him that they'd come get him if they needed any help. Clark knew the emergency phone number that would trigger a response, should he have an emergency, but he wasn't sure if acting tips for J'onn was a dire enough need to use it.

Fighting the urge to get depressed, Clark reasoned with himself about his severed ties with the League. They have jobs to do and he couldn't help any more, it was as simple as that, he decided. That logical part of him reminded the rest of his brain that he could now focus on his journalism. For the most part, that diversion did the trick. The League was still up and running well. But a small corner of his heart missed his friends.

As he was finishing that thought, the console by his front door buzzed. Getting to his feet and crossing the living room, he pressed the 'speak' button.

"Yes?"

"You wanna buzz me in?" he heard Lois's voice blurt out as if she were juggling bowling balls.

"Uh, sure."

Pressing the 'admit' button for a couple seconds, he opened the front door and waited in the hall, looking towards the elevator. He allowed himself a quick flush of excitement as he waited for the metal doors to part. When they did, out staggered a casually-dressed Lois Lane, burdened with at least 6 plastic bags of who knows what.

"Let me help you," he tried, reaching for some of her load.

"I got it…" she scolded, "…I got it."

He held the door open as she twisted her way through, trying to not smash any of the bags or their contents against the jamb.

She found her way to the kitchen and, letting out a grunt a huff, finally set everything down on the floor or table. Smiling with satisfaction, though a touch disheveled, she looked at him and sighed.

"Well?" she said looking at him expectantly.

"Lois!" he exclaimed, eying all the bags, but getting his hand slapped when he reached for one. "What _is_ all this?"

"Dinner!" she announced triumphantly.

Pulling two bottles of wine out of a bag she held them up for Clark's review.

"I don't know wine very much," she admitted, "so I didn't know if we should have red or white…"

"Well actually…" Clark stammered, "I'm not supposed…"

"…or the kids' stuff!" she finished, pulling out a bottle of grape juice shaped like a wine bottle.

Clark looked on in awe as she pulled out container after container of warm food and dinner items. He caught a whiff of fresh bread and again reached for a bag, eager to see what she had brought. Again, he was punished with a slap to the wrist.

"You!" she ordered, pointing down the hall, "Bathroom! Tub! Bath! Go!"

"But…"

"No buts!" she protested, pulling out a bottle of bubble bath crystals and thrusting it at him.

"Here… it was the most masculine smelling bubble bath I could find."

She turned him by the shoulders and shoved him down the hall.

"Don't come back for 20 minutes!" she ordered, "Now go!"

Swatting him on the butt, she made sure he disappeared through a door before returning to the kitchen.

* * *

Clark sat on the edge of the tub, adjusting the temperature of the running water and eyeing the cork and glass stopper sealing the bottle of bubble bath crystals Lois had forced on him. He sprinkled a few into the tub and watched the suds grow. The scent, while not as masculine as the label had suggested, certainly wasn't offensive. He stripped down to his boxers and waited on the side of the tub for the water level to rise. 

"You OK in there?!"

"Fine!" he called back, smiling.

He finally had a second to consider what was taking place in his apartment. He wasn't sure he was all that comfortable in the bathroom while Lois was wandering about his house. He felt that it was inappropriate to not attend his guests – even if they did barge in uninvited and start forcing him to take bubble baths. But he reasoned, if he could put up with his mother spoiling him all that time, then he'd allow Lois the same favor.

Stripping down to his birthday suit, Clark slid through the foamy layers into the hot water. He slowly lowered himself and spouted soft monkey sounds as his body adjusted to the heat. Sighing, he finally leaned back, closed his eyes and enjoyed a few moments relaxation. He was just getting used to his position when he was jarred back to reality by a metallic tinkling crashing sound from his kitchen. An incoherent curse and a few frustrated footsteps later, the bathroom door propped open and Lois's head popped through, eyes shut hard.

"Where are your serving utensils?" she asked.

"Uh… next to the stove… second drawer down."

"Got it!" She nodded, opening her eyes.

When she instinctively glanced down she caught her transgression and, yelping, slammed her eyes shut again, only to realize that all of Clark's personal regions were fully covered by the bubbles.

"Oh," she said opening her eyes again and snickering, "You're decent!"

Clark let out a chuckle at her quick episode of discomfort. He watched as her eyes glided across his toes protruding through the foam, across the tub towards his torso. While her gaze followed slowly up his bare chest, he watched her embarrassed smile fade into a different kind of smile… one of appreciation, maybe?

As her eyes climbed towards his face, the realization that he was without his glasses flooded back to him. In a quick thought, he forced a sneeze and covered his mouth and nose.

"Could you close the door?" he said through his hands. "There's a draft."

"Right!" she said understanding. "Sorry!" and she was gone.

* * *

Clark emerged from his bedroom in a pair of khakis and a grey long-sleeved shirt. His hair was still slick and wet and his glasses were properly in place. He entered the kitchen to find a candle-lit dinner for two. Lois was standing by the table, beaming, her hands nervously wringing behind her. 

"Lois…!" Clark gaped as he eyed the spread before him. "I don't know what to say…"

"Don't say anything," she commanded, taking his arm and leading him to his seat. "Just eat!"

She took her seat opposite him at the small table, reaching for the nearest dish of steaming food, she noticed Clarks head bowed in prayer. Correcting herself, she quickly folded her hands on her lap and followed suit.

When Clark finished with "Amen" he looked up at the bounty on the table, then landed his eyes on the bounty sitting across from him. She seemed somewhat out of place in his apartment, but her presence felt perfectly natural, as if they'd eaten dinner together countless times.

"Roast Beef!" he said reaching for the platter of meat. "My favorite!"

"Is it now?" she said knowingly cocking her head to the side.

"Yeah…" Clark responded before he recognized her tone of voice. Looking around the table, he realized that all his favorite side dishes and amenities were on the menu. Considering the situation, he shot her an accusatory look.

"Did my mother put you up to this?"

"Noooo…" she said with a sly smile. "Making all of this for you was _my_ idea. You're mom just filled me in on some of your faves."

A warm flush of appreciation washed over him as he took in her smiling face. She raised her nose in the air and sported a satisfied smile while taking a bite of carrot.

"Well, it all looks so delicious… Thank you," he tried to express the depth of his gratitude sincerely in his words and expression. He was grateful for the food, the effort… her presence. A little voice in his head flashed a morbid thought; _I should get hurt more often!_

The two ate and talked and laughed and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. Lois cursed herself mid-way through when she realized that she forgot to play the CD she had cued up. The gentle jazz mix completed the backdrop as the apartment grew darker with the setting sun.

When the main course was completed, he raised out of his seat to help her clear the table. The two worked side-by-side, smiling, laughing… flirting… as they filled the sink with dirty dishes. Lois knocked Clark's hips with her own. Clark faked a little clumsiness by deliberately nudging her with his elbow. When she resisted, he pushed a little harder, forcing her off balance. She recovered and snapped him with a dishtowel.

When the kitchen had recovered its order, Clark turned to face his guest and smiled. He thanked her again for the wonderful food and even better company. Taking her in his arms, he enjoyed her warmth as she accepted his embrace and laid her head on his huge shoulder. He rested his cheek against her hair and breathed in her pleasant scent. They stayed that way for a few gentle moments, eyes closed, feeling the other's presence.

Clark shifted his hold of her body and sighed. When she gently squeezed him back, he didn't care about powers or capes or aliens or comas. He wasn't worried about glasses or secret identities or being able to spend the whole day at the Daily Planet without issues. Holding her in his arms felt comfortable. It felt right. He no longer held the weight of the world on his no-longer-capable shoulders, and for the first time since the incident, he didn't feel guilty about anything. His life, his world, what he wanted from that point on was holding him just as affectionately as he was holding her.

Suddenly, Lois shot to attention.

"Dessert!" she shouted wide-eyed. "I forgot the dessert!"

Opening and closing cabinets until she found the plates she was looking for, she shoved two small ones at Clark and ordered him to set the table and add two forks. She turned and disappeared behind the refrigerator door and came back holding something round inside a while plastic bag.

"A little help…" she called out as she neared the table.

Clark took the bag gently from around her hands and the covered dish. He watched amusedly as Lois gently placed it on the table. She lifted the cover dramatically and struck a pose of presentation.

"Ta-da!" she announced. "Strawberry shortcake!"

Flabbergasted, Clark hung and shook his head. Smiling, he ambled towards his seat, his mouth watering for the sweet and tart delicacy he was about to enjoy. He turned towards the kitchen sink along the way, reaching under to deposit the plastic bag in his hands into the recycle bin. Stopping, he noticed that there was something inside it. Lois wasn't fast enough to keep him from discovering her secret.

"Lloyd's Catering and Banquettes?" he asked reading the receipt he found.

Embarrassed, Lois snatched the slip of paper out of his hands and quickly tossed it in the trash. She didn't have the nerve to look him in the eye when she realized the futility of her actions. She stifled a frustrated huff and caught his knowing grin out of the corner of his eye. Her struggle to keep from smiling was futile and she swatted his arm as a laugh escaped.

"I made the cake!" she tried.

"And I'll bet it'll be the best part of the whole meal."

He embraced her from the side while she kept her arms crossed in defiance. They shared a laugh and she finally turned to hug him back.

"C'mon," he finally said. "Let's eat!"

* * *

Diana sat in a black leather office chair amongst the cool dampness of the Batcave. Her arms and legs were crossed and her chin was thrust out in defiance as she glowered through her eyebrows at the man pacing back and forth across the way. He was being stubborn again. 

Grudgingly honoring the 'order' to be quiet for a few moments while he thought, the mighty Amazon was cleverly formulating as many strategies as he surely was. Very few people would be able to sway him once his mind was made up, but she had won more arguments with him than most people. She wasn't afraid of this one. And, although she had already played that card once today, she was not against the idea of calling upon her long, smooth, bare legs once more… if necessary.

Bruce, on the other hand, was mentally engaged in the deepest way. It would take a world-class diversion to break his train of thought. As it turns out, a world-class diversion was sitting in royal blue spandex shorts not 12 feet away from him.

Had he been alone when he discovered this new ability, there would have been several degrees of frustration. He would have fussed and fumed over the fact that he even _had_ another ability to master, let alone how much the hours, if not days it could take to do so. As it was, however, Diana sitting in the room, watching him as he paced like a caged tiger. He felt the weight of her stare, felt her presence though he ignored it masterfully. It was her aura of authority that he could not deny, so he did the thing that Batman does; he took away her power with his planning.

He knew exactly what she would say. He knew exactly which side of the debate she would defend. Rather than go toe-to-toe with her again, he simply heard her voice in his head and paid attention to it as if he she had spoke it out loud. Such was her affect on him… as he had reasoned out weeks ago; she calls him out and lets him know when he's full of shit. He had no choice but to concede some of her points, be they imaginary in his head or expressed from her own mouth.

Looking at the situation objectively, he knew that this latest symptom was just another thing he had to master. He already believed he had a certain degree of control over it in the first place, since it seemed that he had to mentally concentrate in order to 'activate' this newest symptom. He knew that it slightly affected his vision, but he was confident that a little practice was all that he needed to overcome it. In the end, he concluded that he should have no problems if he never called upon it, and even if he did, there should be no danger. All that was left was understanding and practice.

Having actually finished analyzing the entire situation within his own head in a matter of minutes, he found that he was gratefully peaceful about it. In fact, he no longer felt any animosity at all over his 'condition'. It was becoming easier to accept the changes in his life, and part of the reason was sitting in a white tank top watching him. As she radiated tenseness, he recalled her enthusiasm just a few minutes ago. He recalled how she _made_ him spar using his new abilities – and how it was good for him, despite his protests. He knew in his heart of hearts that _she_ was good for him, and he was suddenly grateful that she was there. And although she hadn't caught it, he was occasionally catching glimpses of her face as he paced and he was marveling at how beautiful she looked when she was being stubborn. Although his expression was stone-set in concentration, in reality he was loving the woman glaring at him with her hypnotizing blue eyes and her scarlet lips pursed in front of her gritting white teeth.

Suddenly, he had a moment of spontaneity and purpose. He needed to practice. She had been good for that so far, why not a little more. But this time would be a little different. This time, Bruce Wayne wanted to play.

Slightly amused with himself, he knew without a doubt that he had already resolved the internal conflict and left Diana with nothing to argue for or against. He had removed her power, resolved the conflict and she was still preparing for a fight. He continued to pace, ignoring her presence, knowing full well that the longer he did, the more frustrated she would grow. He fought the urge to smile.

Stopping and turning to face her, he watch as her chest heaved with an audible inhale. She was ready for a conflict that would not come. He stared back at her for a tense second, recalling the thoughts and feelings that he used as he was falling from her grasp. He watched her eyes open wide and her jaw drop as he smiled at her, winked, then disappeared again.

"Bruce!" she protested as she stood up and looked around.

Stealthily, he made his way across the floor and stood to her side, just out of her reach.

"You come back right now!" she ordered looking around and finding nothing.

Taking a daring step closer, he tapped her on the shoulder and dodged her back fist as she swung it in his general direction.

"This is NOT FUNNY!"

Fighting the urge to laugh and focusing to overcome his vision problems, he crouched down and swatted her perfect ass. Her leg flew instinctively where she imagined his chest was, but in reality it sailed gracefully over his head.

"Damn it!" she muttered, frustration being challenged within her by amusement.

Waiting silently, he watched as the warrior in her regained composure. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it escape between her luscious lips. She tilted her head to one side, her hair fell down her back, freeing her ear and exposing the graceful curve of neck. She clearly had regained her calm and listened and _felt_ for his presence. His next move could very well be his last if he wasn't careful.

Calling upon all his stealth, he made his way behind her. He eyed the smoothness of her neck and savored the way it joined with her lithe shoulder. He wanted his lips to explore that flesh. He wanted to taste her skin and hold his body against hers. He wanted to slide his bare hands along her hips and to breath in her scent.

Taking one of the biggest dares he ever had, he acted upon that impulse. Still invisible, leaning in slowly, his mouth drew closer to her neck. He hesitated just a moment, his lips a mere inch away from her skin. Closing his eyes, he leaned that final inch.

He didn't make it.

Ducking and turning, Diana's hand found his arm and she flipped him over her body onto the floor. Landing on top of him, one knee across his abdomen, the other pinning down an arm, she grabbed him by handfuls of his shirt as his invisible body came back into focus.

"Living dangerously, Mr. Wayne?"

Her expression was one of accusation, but with just a hint of delight. His own face grew into an amused smile as it blurred into view. Their mouths just a whisper apart.

"Always."

He lay there, pinned down by her strong legs, his shirt in her grasp, her soft hair spilling down one side of his face and her blue eyes glimmering at his own. Her supple mouth formed into a heated smile. He no longer had the element of surprise at all. He wasn't even in control of his own actions for the moment. His opportunity was lost, yet her lips were so close and her breath spread across his face.

Control. He needed it, but right now, he had none of it.

Trying to disarm her with his sexiest Bruce Wayne smile, he stared up at her, formulating a counter to her hold on him. He would have to wait another heartbeat and a half to catch her off guard or else she would easily wind up in a position of control again. If he tensed his muscles too early, she'd know. If he telegraphed his move with his eyes, surprise would be lost. If he…

As he lay plotting, she passionately thrust her mouth onto his. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her mouth ravished his desperately. Her hands moved from his shirt to behind his head and grabbed handfuls of black hair, smashing his lips up against hers.

He brought his free hand up to her waist. She obliged his urging and adjusted her position to lay down on top of him, straddling his thigh. Her chest pressed firmly, against his and she kissed her way across his jaw to his neck. He returned the favor as his mouth finally found the skin he had been longing for. Their legs intertwined and the bodies wrestled for more contact with each other. She had given up all forms of care and simply allowed her body to dictate her actions, trying desperately to satisfy needs that had suddenly boiled over. Her soft moans echoed in his ears as he enjoyed her attentions.

He had stopped plotting, stopped thinking. He lay there, enjoying her unfettered lust and trying to reciprocate as best he could. Her hips were grinding against his in reckless abandon and her sounds and the sensation of her breath on his face and neck fueled his own desire.

And for an incredible, exciting moment, Bruce Wayne enjoyed not being in control.

* * *

**AN: As always, thanks to all you readers and a special thanks to all you reviewers. For those that don't know, this is my second fic ever, and I appreciate the feedback. I try to reply to all my reviewers privately, unless there's no link to do so, in which case I try to remember to tack on a little something at the end of the next chapter... like this:**

**Rangerfan58:  
YEP!**

**mano:  
I try to update as often as possible, but so far, it takes a few days in between chapters. Hope that's not too annoying. Plus, I don't have a beta, so I try my best to find my own mistakes...**

**lhkingoh:  
I hope Chapter 8, here, is the kind of follow-up to Chapter 7 you were expecting.**

**Thanks again!  
WL**


	9. Chapter 9: Beginning Anew

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

* * *

Chapter 9: Beginning Anew 

Batman reached for his utility belt. He tossed down a quick smoke bomb and retrieving his grapple, he shot the metal claw at the stone edge atop a nearby building and let the device pull him out of the alley. His momentum carried him up, over the ledge and onto the roof. He retracted the claw and made sure the police found the would-be arsonist he had left for them before he backed unseen into the shadows. Another crime successfully foiled.

He didn't need any of his new powers for this one – or any of the other 7 he had handled this night. He maintained a slightly greater sense of accomplishment in that. But the debate had welled within him more and more often. He could have _jumped_ up to the top of the building. That would effectively do the same thing as disguising his grapple usage with his smoke bombs. As far as these punks knew, he really _was_ flying unaided away from the scene of their arrest. Why not actually do it? Batman had been using tricks and gadgets to keep people guessing about his true capabilities… why not use these powers to perpetuate that?

_Because then I'd become a servant to these powers rather than a master of them, that's why._

He had no choice but to enjoy the endurance, though. He had no control over that benefit. He was still in control of everything else, however. He wouldn't use his super strength or speed unless he needed to. He didn't like using his incredible hearing, although it had come in handy once in a while. He refused to use his recently discovered and mastered ability to turn invisible. He had _control_ over those things, he _chose_ when to use them – and he chose _never_… well, hardly ever. But the endurance… if he had no choice, then he might as well enjoy it.

Running across the rooftops at his normal (non-super) sprint speed to move from one end of the city to the other, he was able to protect his grapple from wear and tear. Taking on as many thugs as he wanted was also a nice benefit, since he didn't get tired in a fight any more. Not having to take a break between engagements had made the patrol very busy indeed. He hated to, but he had to admit that one physical enhancement – endurance – had made him much more effective on patrol.

Had it made him more effective prior to patrol?

He wondered. And he smiled about the memory.

He took a second as he stood quietly in the shadows to recall Diana's voice ringing in his ears. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, her mouth against his. He could smell her on himself still and recall the soft skin of her body under his touch. Mostly, he recalled the feeling of allowing her to take command of him. She set the pace, she controlled the action. If she was going to take that step into that world, then he allowed her to do it on _her_ terms. After all, she is an Amazon.

He harkened back to the look of hunger in her eyes and the desire on her face. He felt himself warm up as he remembered how she grabbed and pulled at his body, wanting desperately to feel it against her own. And although it killed him at the time to do so, he now felt a streak of righteousness remembering how he had stopped her before they went too far.

She didn't listen at first. Her lust for him to be inside her was too great. She had ripped the pants off his legs as her teeth dug into his chest.

"Not yet," he had said.

He almost thought he had made a mistake when she didn't stop her aggression. But when he gently took her hands in his own and brought them away from her goal and up to his mouth to kiss, she looked into his eyes and grudgingly concurred. It only took a moment, and she regained a hint of her composure. Understanding, she stopped her frenzied attack and caught her breath. If they were to take that path, he wouldn't let it be taken on the cold floor of the Batcave. She deserves better than that.

"No further," she panted, nodding. "… not yet."

"No further," he agreed, "but we don't have to stop either…"

With that, the remaining tatters of their clothes stayed on, but their engagement continued for the remainder of the evening. Their hands roamed and their mouths and tongues explored right up until Batman had to go on patrol. As he stood by the batmobile, she blew him a kiss just before she teleported away in a blaze of blue light.

Yes, he had to admit that his endurance was helping tonight. He also had to happily admit that the thought of Diana had not left the back of his mind and it had not hindered his patrol in the slightest. If anything, it kept his mind even. Usually, after a half dozen encounters, he would get tired, irritable. His judgment in justice would be in danger of compromise when his mood slipped.

Not tonight.

Tonight, no matter how low the creeps were, he found justice surprisingly fair. His heavy hand showed his victims the wrong of their doings, yet kept the door for redemption open. He could see in their eyes that they would not forget the lessons he taught, and for the couple that showed a reluctance to learn, he made sure they would receive justice through the law accordingly. All in all, this had been one of the most successful patrols he had been on in a long, long time. And it was only half over.

* * *

"SURPRISE!" 

Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter stopped mid-stride. He was hoping for a smooth, uneventful return to his duties at the Daily Planet. Instead, he walked completely unprepared into a Welcome Back party in his honor. Taking a second to look around at all the smiling faces of his coworkers and friends, his embarrassment was rivaled only by the swell of warmth brought on by the realization that people around him actually cared about _him_ – even without his cape.

He made his way through the hand shaking and back patting and the occasional hug towards his desk. He found it piled high with small gifts and cards and his chair was unashamedly wrapped with paper streamers and balloons taped or tied to every conceivable object.

"Kent!" Perry White's voice still commanded respect as it penetrated the noise and commotion.

"Sir?" Clark responded, standing upright and looking over the heads of his coworkers at his boss.

"Welcome Back!" White said, giving a curt nod, then turning to the crowd; "Back to work! We've got a deadline to meet!"

With that, the boss disappeared into his office and the crowd filtered back into their respective roles. It was a short-lived, yet fun way to start a Monday for them and a surprisingly welcome way for Clark to return to work.

The last people to leave his desk were Lois and Jimmy. Clark didn't notice Jimmy.

"Welcome back, Smallville," Lois said warmly, giving him an affectionate hug. Breaking their embrace, his hands slid down her arms as she backed away, finally taking her hands in his. She gave them a gentle squeeze as their eyes met for a brief, intimate moment. Then, turning, she shyly waved and walked back to her desk, swinging both arms together and humming a light tune.

Like Clark, Jimmy watched as she departed. He sensed that he might have just witnessed something unusual, but he wasn't sure. He patted Clark on the arm to get his attention.

"Hey, CK," he said in his typical up-beat way, "How ya feelin'?"

"Hey, Jimmy," Clark replied unwrapping the streamers from his chair. "I'm doing well. How 'bout you?"

"Well, y'know…" said the young photographer, "…it's another Monday."

The two continued basic small talk as Clark organized and cleared off his desk so he could start something resembling work. He already had a few stories in mind, but would have to wait for the 8:30 meeting with Perry and the other reporters to find out his assignments for the week.

Having neatly stacked his small pile of presents and cards to the side for later and giving Jimmy a balloon as he left, Clark sat down and looked around, enjoying the sights and sounds and smells of the Daily Planet again. The phones rang and computer keyboards were being pummeled mercilessly in every direction. It was good to be back.

* * *

Clark Kent sat at the mahogany table watching Perry White roll up his sleeves. He scribbled notes in his notebook as his boss talked about assignments and follow up stories. It was a Monday after a slow news weekend. There weren't many juicy stories to break and Lois wasn't hiding her boredom. Clark, on the other hand was a little grateful for some mundane assignments. It would give him time to re-acclimate to reporter life. 

Another thing Clark was thankful for was the fact that he was assigned to follow up on a story about a robbery that Superman foiled yesterday. It would be a simple story, just right to get him back on track. And it would mean contacting the League and perhaps setting up an interview. Clark smiled to himself as the meeting was dismissed and he tucked his notebook into his shirt pocket.

Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone and dialed the Justice League hotline – a phone number that every major news outlet and police department had on record. The call would be handled by a computerized answering system, which would screen and analyze the message, investigate the caller ID and pass on the messages to the Watchtower.

"Hello, Justice League..." Clark started, "My name is Clark Kent and I work for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. I would like to interview Superman about the robbery he stopped yesterday…"

Hanging up, he considered how odd it felt to leave a message for Superman. He had done it before. Of course, he was doing it just for show then. Now he was actually leaving a message to learn more about a Justice League incident of which he knew nothing about – other than the original news coverage.

Part of him wanted to laugh about the absurdity of it. Part of him felt cold. He was certain that whoever was on monitor duty would return his call soon. He was sure that his request for an interview would be honored. He was even willing to bet that he would be invited up to the Watchtower. While there, he would have time to socialize and see his friends again. He knew without a doubt that he would be welcome. What he didn't know was how much he would be privy to, how open would the welcome be?

He had gone over the scenario in his head countless times since he left the Watchtower infirmary. When he was debriefed and didn't get a com link, they said it was because he needed time to rest. He had accepted that without giving it the consideration he probably should have. After time, when he found himself missing his life in the League, he considered what he would do if it had been Flash or Green Lantern that were suddenly powerless. Without powers, without being capable of doing the things they do, would they still be in the League? Probably not. Their character would still be the same – they would be heroes in his eyes - forever, really. They just wouldn't be Super Heroes any more.

And loosing that status how would their relationship with the League change? There would _have to be_ ties severed – for security's sake as well as their own.

If he were still Superman and involved with League business, how often would he have time to just 'stop by' and chat with Wally West or John Stewart? A couple times, perhaps. But as time passed, the frequency of the visits would decrease. Eventually, it was sad to admit, a de-powered Wally or a de-lanterned John would become fondly remembered ex-colleagues. Just like Clark is slowly becoming.

While he was on the farm with his mother, Clark held on to the belief that some time soon, Batman or the Martian Manhunter would contact him, letting him know that they finally found a way to restore his powers and that would be that. It was the belief that his current situation was temporary that made the transition from one of the World's Finest to civilian easier to swallow. As the days turned to weeks and that contact was never made, the hope within him had dwindled. Eventually he grew unsure if he'd ever get the call.

There were times when his patience and frustration were tearing him up inside. He wanted to grab the phone and see what the hold up was. He wondered if Batman was holding out on purpose. He started fostering paranoid delusions about how the other 6 members of the League could somehow be _relieved_ to finally get rid of the 'Big Blue Boy Scout'. Maybe they were just nice to his face because of his powers… were they afraid of him then? If not, why hasn't anybody called – if only to just say "hello"?

It was at his lowest times when Lois would magically appear, as if sent in to save him. She reminded him of the other half of life that he still had to embrace. Where as Superman completed him, now there was a hole. Lois showed him that that hole could be filled without donning blue tights. It was her friendship, and then her affection that helped him not miss what he had lost. It was the prospect that he may be able to share his life with her that gave him optimism about moving on. There was no denying that he would never forget his powers or abilities or friends or that life. Lois made it easier to accept.

Clark hung up the phone and wondered how long it would take to hear from the League.

* * *

Bruce Wayne shook hands and exchanged smiles as the other members of the Board of Directors of Wayne Enterprises left the meeting room. The 'suits' filed past and shared comments about golfing and dinners and summer homes and yachts. All in all, it had been the latest in a string of successful meetings. Uncharacteristically, Bruce Wayne had been present at all of them. Not only that, but he had been active at these meetings and even provided sound input, to the surprise of many. 

For the past couple weeks, Bruce's activities hadn't gone unnoticed. He had been arriving at the office at reasonable hours, not some time after noon as per his usual schedule. He had been accepting his appointments without delaying or canceling half of them. He had been personally returning correspondence and meeting with stockholders and department heads on a more regular basis. Basically, he had been performing as a President and CEO should, rather than a spoiled playboy that got the position simply because his daddy started the company.

On top of all that, Bruce's influence had triggered positive results. There were more than a few people that wondered how this man (whom they considered quite clueless at times) managed to keep Wayne Enterprises not only afloat, but thriving. Bruce had effectively been able to silence their doubts lately. His innovative decisions had caused an upswing in corporate stock value during a time of year when normally the stocks were flat or worse. Many doubters had converted to believers, as long as the profits rose. Then again, there were others betting on when this fad would end and whose head would role when it did – certainly not _his_.

Bruce flashed his signature heart-melting smile at his secretary as he sat on the corner of her desk. The stunning young woman swooned and if she noticed how much he appreciated her ample cleavage, she didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Sandy," he said thoughtfully, locking eyes with her, "I'm in a good mood."

The young lady squirmed in her seat as the attention she was receiving made her heat up inside unprofessionally.

"And looking as good as you do today," he continued, "I'd like to do two things; One, give you a raise..."

Sandy's eyes sparkled as her jaw dropped.

"… and Two, give you the rest of the day off!"

"Mr. Wayne… I…"

"OK, rest of the week, then – but be back Monday!"

Walking around the desk and putting his hand politely on her shoulder, he continued.

"Seriously, Sandy," he said more sincerely, "I've heard that you're earning exemplary grades at your night school courses. I think that's very admirable. And while I hate to think of loosing my secretary after you finish your MBA, I want to make sure you achieve all that you're capable of achieving. You're a hard worker, you're good with people and most importantly, you keep me out of trouble. You deserve it."

Patting her gently on the back, he gave her a quick wink and retreated to his office.

"See you next week!" he called as the doors closed behind him.

He heard the beautiful woman loose a whoop of joy then scurry towards the elevator. Making her day – making her month, probably, put a smile on his face. He stepped to the enormous plate glass walls that lined his office and looked out over the city – his city. From this height, it looked clean and peaceful to most people. If he tried, he could see it that way too. But he had spent too many hours on the rooftops of this city, watching the lowest of the low apply their trade. He didn't let the illusion of the shining glass skyscrapers influence what he knew to be reality among the dank alleys. How many times had he wondered if Batman even made a dent?

Last night's patrol was invigorating. After apprehending the arsonist, he heard something that he never had the opportunity to before, although he had heard rumor of it many times. He had spotted a well-known petty thief consorting with a few other shady characters. In a rare, but rationalized moment, he called upon his super hearing to listen to their conversation – to hear of their plots, if any.

The one talking was trying to convince the others of the perfection of his plan to knock over a near-by convenience store. After all was said and done the rest of them shot down his scheme and cited Batman, not the police as the reason. There was a sense of satisfaction in that – to know that his efforts were making a difference, to know that potential crimes were being _prevented_ rather than just interrupted or cleaned up after. The fact that the image of Batman was doing this helped him believe in his mission.

But the purist in him was still not satisfied. He wanted would-be criminals to stop their ways because it was _wrong_, not because they would get caught. And if there was fear, they should be afraid of the _police_ and the long arm of the law, not just Batman. Until the GCPD was cleaned up more thoroughly, however, that was still a pipe dream.

Regardless, he took satisfaction and… pleasure, was it?… in that one little episode. He wouldn't even try if he didn't believe he could make a difference. He would have written the city off as a loss if he thought it was beyond saving. After all, that was the whole theme of his mission. At times, he had let that vision slip from his grasp. At times, he had thought that it may be hopeless after all. All men loose faith. At times, every human forgets what is worth fighting for.

Only now, he isn't exactly human any more.

Was it in his head, or were his patrols more effective since the ACCORD incident? Was he working harder, and longer hours, engaging more of the scum in the alleys and back rooms? Was it his imagination, or were big crimes becoming less frequent these past few patrols – despite the fact that, historically for this time of year, crime should be on the rise? Were his powers _the key_ to Batman's greater success lately?

And he hadn't even called on them appreciably.

What if he did? What if he used his incredible hearing to detect and foil more crime? What if he could hear a mugging 3 miles away and stop it within seconds? What if Joker escaped again? Would he tap into that reservoir to stop him, or Scarecrow, or Bane? Would that be against what he stood for if it helped make his city safer?

He heard Diana's voice in his head. _Your _mission _is what is important. The tools you use are your _choice. _You have powers now and they are simply tools for you to use or not. That is your _choice.

So many things were easy for Bruce Wayne, for Batman… so many things that befuddled others in the League or the GCPD or the corporate world. To him, decisions were clear-cut more often than not. The good must outweigh the bad at the end of the day. That was the bottom line. What about now?

Principles? Batman has them - in many cases, stronger than anybody else. Guns were against his principles. Powers – are they like guns? Quick, easy… unfair? At the end of the day, the good would still outweigh the bad, wouldn't it?

Until he knew the answer without a doubt, he would not use his powers readily. Until he knew that he controlled them and was not a slave to them, he would not call upon them. But it was just so damn easy to do. It was so easy to swing a little faster to take out a dangerous adversary. It was so easy to listen in on the conspiracies and foil them. It was so easy to hold his ground like a living statue and let the punches and kicks and bullets bounce off. What's more - it seemed to be working better. It was so damn easy, it almost felt like cheating.

Almost like using a gun.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" 

Nightwing nimbly vaulted over the ledge onto the roof. He had ditched his motorcycle a half mile away before changing into his nocturnal crime-fighting outfit. He didn't think he would surprise the old man, but it wasn't fun to hear a greeting like that either.

"Nice to see you too."

Batman hadn't taken his eyes off the warehouse across the street. Nightwing crouched beside him and joined in the watch.

"Drugs" the older hero stated simply.

"Anybody important?"

"No."

"What are they…"

"SHH!"

Batman cocked his head slightly as if listening. Nightwing reached to adjust the frequency on his earpiece.

"You won't find it."

"Find what?" they young man challenged.

"The bug frequency."

"New encryptions?"

"No," Batman said looking at him sideways. "There is no bug."

Nightwing thought about that for a moment. No bug… _Is he _listening _to them… from HERE?_

He kept quiet while his adopted father mentally noted key facts. After a short time, Batman stood up and briefed him in full.

"Two armed suspects on the ground floor office in the southwest corner. They're counting money and dividing it up into armored briefcases. Eight armed suspects guarding 15 workers in the warehouse. They're handling the shipments and dividing the merchandise for delivery."

Dick looked at the office on the southwest corner. There was a light on behind the blinds. From his vantage point, five stories up, he could see across the roof of the warehouse and most of the surrounding grounds. There were some trucks backed up to the loading docks. No fences.

Batman pointed out the poorly-hidden surveillance cameras and the typical paths the sentries took.

"Wait for the police," the Dark Knight continued, not looking at his son. "They'll be here in two minutes, no sirens, no lights. When you see them coming, take out the two in the office and meet me back here."

"You want me to help you?" Nightwing asked incredulously.

"Unless you've got something better to do…"

With that, the Dark Knight disappeared over the side of the roof. Nightwing watched as his cape expanded and he glided to a gentle landing below. Making his own way down, Nightwing kept an eye out for the security cameras and crept to the open window on the south wall of the office Batman had identified. There he listened to the two criminals inside; one male, one female. If he played this one well, he could get to the warehouse in time to show Batman that he had learned a thing or two. Besides, it would be good to see the old man in action again.

"_Wait for the police,"_ Batman's whispered voice reminded him through his earpiece.

"_What about the ones in the warehouse?"_

"_I'll take care of them."_

"_Twenty-three of them?"_

There was no response.

_The old man must have something up his sleeve… unless… powers? No! He wouldn't… would he?_

Curiosity...

Nightwing checked the background light and shadows. He could risk a glance through the window to get a little knowledge of the room's layout before engaging the two suspects. He leaned in on the sly and got a good look of the room; two exterior walls with one window each, the far wall had one door – presumably to the hallway and the other wall had folding doors – presumably to a closet. There was a desk under the window against the west wall that held money counting equipment and a machine gun leaning against it. The two occupants had their backs towards him – what luck! - and were both sporting shoulder harnesses.

This should be short and sweet.

After a brief wait, Nightwing saw the first of the police cars turn the corner at the end of the block. Like Batman said, the strobes were off and the car was proceeding slowly, silently.

He ripped the screen open and vaulted through in one smooth, fluid motion. A quick kick to the back sent the man against the far wall, head first. The female threw herself backwards against the closet doors and drew her pistol. A duck, a leg sweep and a back fist to the head later and she was out for the count.

Turning back towards her accomplice, Nightwing found that he had recovered quickly from his original attack – quicker than expected. He had enough time to lunge for and acquire the machine gun by the desk. He cocked it and brought it to his shoulder.

By that time, Nightwing was in mid air with a spinning kick. Before the man could pull the trigger, the weapon went sailing across the room. Continuing his spin with a back kick, he sent the man crashing through the window to land out cold at the feet of a rookie cop.

Satisfied with his efforts, it was time to head down the hall to the warehouse. When he arrived, he found all 23 suspects bound and in various states of consciousness and disarray. He immediately ducked into the darkest corner he could find as the police filed past, weapons drawn. When the time was right, he spied his way back outside and across the street undetected.

By the time he made his way up the five stories to the roof, Batman had already been considering his next engagement for the night.

"What kept you?"

"I went to the warehouse to give you a hand."

"I didn't need one."

"Really?"

The two men worked the rest of the night side-by-side. Dick couldn't help but feel like it was old times. He watched the old man doing things that he'd never seen before. He felt over-awed like a teenager watching his hero. He had to _remind_ himself that Batman shouldn't be able to do the things he was; he shouldn't be able to jump that high or fight that long or strike that hard, but he did it so well, so flawlessly… it was as if he had been doing it his whole life.

Nightwing wasn't sure why Batman invited him to join him for the rest of his patrol. It was all business – they only talked about the engagements they were about to undertake. Nothing warm or heartfelt was shared, but the simple fact that Bruce let Dick tag along was significant in itself. It was a door opened.

Of course, the reason Dick ventured into Gotham in the first place was to see some things for himself - to get some answers. He hadn't been able to 'corner' Bruce about anything over the past few weeks. There were still too many things left up in the air and the young police officer wasn't comfortable leaving them up there. As he mounted his motorcycle at the end of patrol, he had few answers to his list of questions, but he felt satisfied none-the-less. The fact that Batman _allowed_ him to even be _in_ Gotham was significant. The two fighting side-by-side was more than just bonding for old times' sake. Dick now understood that Bruce was in control of his life again, was comfortable with all that had happened. And Batman showed him this by simply allowing Nightwing to hang out with him.

With the nights' events over, the two men retired to the Batcave. They finished their time with some polite small talk and Dick eventually crawled into his old bed, exhausted. He was fast asleep when Bruce looked in on him and fondly smiled.

* * *

**AN: So, you may be asking... "Where is this story going?" Well, if this story was a roller coaster, we're almost to the top of the big hill...**

**AN: As always, thanks to all who read and EXTRA THANKS to all who review!**

**to ljkingoh:  
Bruce finally gives in... It was only a matter of time!  
Lois didn't have to be bossy? Have you MET Lois? As strong of a person as she is, I see her bossiness as a defense mechanism in relationships...  
Clark was whipped? Well, yeah! Of course, it's not so much as he is being pushed around as he is _letting_** **Lois push him around, y'know?  
Thanks for the review!**

**to a fan:  
Thanks a whole bunch! I update as often as I can...**

**to moi:  
Kind of you to say. Thanks for the review!**


	10. Chapter 10: Progress or just Change?

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me.

* * *

Chapter 10: Change or Progress? 

Clark Kent stepped off the teleporter pad. Green Lantern's smiling face greeted him and he extended his hand in welcome.

"Good to see you again… Clark," he said warmly, although he didn't sound comfortable using that name. Before the ACCORD incident, he, Flash and Shayera didn't know Superman's secret identity.

"Good to see you too," Clark replied taking his hand. He was very conscious of the other man's grip. He had forgotten how strong John Stewart was… or was he just that weak now?

"You know the way," Green Lantern said sweeping his arm towards the door and patting Clark on the shoulder.

The two men made their way down the corridor. It was like a bittersweet homecoming for Clark. The Watchtower was as familiar as ever, but the _feel_ of it was off. It was like returning to Smallville High School many years after graduation; just a fondly remembered episode of his past. Yet it had only been a couple weeks since he left.

Not much had changed. The walls were the same. The equipment and rooms were the same. Clark paused briefly at a large window to enjoy the vista of his adopted home planet far below. Turning to continue on towards the conference room, a red streak followed by a wave of wind greeted him.

"IsHeHereAlready… oh!"

Clark suppressed a smile as Wally caught himself and shook his hand. The three men exchanged a little small talk as they meandered down the corridor. When they reached the conference room, Clark hesitantly took his old seat.

"Well," he announced, retrieving his notebook. "I'm here to interview Superman."

The three men chuckled. It sounded forced.

"Manhunter and Hawkgirl are on their way," GL informed him. "Wonder Woman is on a mission, but she shouldn't be long. She made me promise to keep you here until she got back."

Clark smiled. Diana, his dear friend… He had missed her most of all.

"And Batman?"

Lantern shook his head.

"Can't to make it."

Clark understood. Knowing Batman's daytime activities, he had already written off any chance of seeing him, although he had hoped. He didn't like the way their last meeting had ended at Wayne Manor. He wanted to show Bruce that he was okay, physically and mentally. He felt the need to _redeem_ himself in Bruce's eyes, to regain his old friend's respect.

The three men sat and talked, tensely at first. Flash didn't know what to say, so he stayed uncharacteristically quiet. To him, it felt like visiting a relative in the hospital. How could he make small talk with somebody in that condition? When Clark took off his glasses, sure, he _looked_ like Superman (in a gray suit and tie), but there was something missing. It seemed that there was a void of confidence in the bigger man's voice. Flash was afraid to say something wrong, to put his foot in his mouth like he does so often despite his best intentions.

Lantern was easier with it. More experienced than Flash, he understood that Clark was just as much the same man he ever was. John Stewart had friends in the Marine Corps that had been wounded and killed. He had buddies that had lost limbs or hearing or eyesight. That was how he approached Clark. He's every bit a person as he was before, just a little different now.

As the conversations grew warmer, more open, everybody was able to relax a little. Laughter happened a little quicker. The two active Leaguers told a few stories about adventures since Clark left. Clark listened with appreciation and a little jealousy, but not much. He was very aware of GL quickly changing the subject when Flash had said a little more than he should – security reasons. Flash wasn't comfortable treating him that way, it felt a little like betrayal. But there are rules for a reason, or so he had been told.

Clark tried to take it in stride, but the twinge of trust lost hovered over him. He understood from the debriefing weeks ago that the League _had_ to plan for the morbid possibility that Superman may never return, and in doing so, Clark wouldn't be exposed to many of the inner workings for his own safety. He understood it, but it was still a hard pill to swallow when actually faced with the reality of it.

J'onn and Shayera joined them before too long and the five spent the better part of an hour reminiscing and sharing stories. Flash got them all snacks and drinks. Clark gently offered J'onn a few pointers on being more Superman-like. When the Martian told him that he planned on making some 'changes' to Superman, including giving him a crew cut, it took everybody a couple seconds to realize that he had actually made a joke.

Eventually, the conversation evolved to the brass tacks of the day; the robbery. Clark scribbled his notes as the facts were presented. The reporter in him tried to remain objective about the situation and even a little critical over some points. True to form, the mild-mannered reporter got all the information he needed and put away his note pad, but kept the conversation more business like.

"Has any progress been made identifying who built that device?"

Everybody knew about which device he was speaking. More so, everybody knew that his real line of questioning would lead towards the big one; can his powers be restored?

As plainly as ever, J'onn outlined the situation.

The mercenary group was hired by an unknown person that the League had code-named "Mastermind" until properly identified. All evidence pointed to the mercenary group believing that the main goal of the operation was the destruction of the Federal Reserve Building outside Metropolis. The weapon that had caused so much havoc in their lives was thought of as a contingency plan. Everybody in the group knew of its existence and its secret whereabouts within the floor of one of the transport trucks. They were to use it on any member of the Justice League, and more specifically on Superman, should the opportunity arise.

When it became common knowledge among the captured members of the group that one of their own was killed firing the weapon, whatever loyalty they felt for Mastermind was lost. The information flowed a little more freely after that, but not enough to determine Mastermind's true identity. It also wasn't clear if the Fed building was the real target or if things were just set up to make it look that way.

As far as a counter device, progress had been made, in a clinical sense. They now had a good understanding of Superman and Batman's reactions to the weapon and they were able to recreate devices based on that knowledge.

The concentrated red sun radiation exposure was undoubtedly the cause of Superman's woe. His Kryptonian DNA was still intact and would eventually regain the ability to process energy from the yellow sun. In short, Clark would get his powers back – that was the good news. The bad news was that it would take 27 years.

When the Kryptonite LASER struck Superman in that trailer, it polarized his body and for a brief time anything that came in contact with it. That included Batman's body. Once similarly polarized, the red sun radiation that 'bounced' around the inside of the trailer exposed Batman to just enough to alter his physiology. Had it been a direct hit, he would have been incinerated on the spot. As it was, his cells were exposed to just enough radiation 'leakage' to alter their states. It was simply a freak accident. Like Superman, Batman's body would return to normal…in about 22 years.

The devices that had been developed so far were built as direct opposites of the original device. They had developed a Kryptonite LASER on an inverse wavelength and another device that would generate concentrated yellow sun radiation. In theory, if they fired the devices at Clark, with Batman in contact with him, they would be restored to normal. The problem was that Clark's de-powered body can't handle the exposure. He would die and Bruce couldn't be restored without him.

The news was good overall, albeit a little disappointing at the end. But the significant progress and the continuing effort was encouraging. The despair that had tainted his spirit off and on for the past few weeks was lessened slightly. His optimism was still in tact and he silently resolved, as he sat with his former colleagues, that he would look at this time as a long-term vacation. He'd be back.

When Diana walked through the door, she paused briefly, all conversation stopped and Clark slowly rose to his feet. Taking a second, her anxious face bloomed into an excited smile. She flew across the room, over the table and threw her arms around his neck, squealing with delight, almost knocking him over in her enthusiasm.

"I was _hoping_ you'd still be here!"

She tightened her embrace as much as she dared. He squeezed her in return, although a little less affectionately, being somewhat uncomfortable with the others looking on, but still allowing himself the joy of the moment.

She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back, holding his hands.

"I've _missed_ you, Kal," she confessed through her smile.

"I've missed you, too."

Looking around, Wonder Woman's face changed to show confusion.

"Where's Batman?"

"Can't make it," Lantern told her.

She didn't even try to hide her look of disappointment. She was keenly aware of the good and bad dimensions of the relationship between the two men. She knew of the rivalries and the respect. She was certain that Bruce… that Batman would be there, though. He would make the visit purely business, of course, when in reality, he would be checking on his friend. The fact that he wasn't there was fairly surprising to her.

The six retook their traditional seats around the table and Diana pumped Clark for information about his life. He revisited many of the same stories he had already told the others. Flash took the opportunity to retrieve more sustenance from the pantry.

"… and so, when Green Lantern set up the appointment, I teleported up here."

"Well the fates have aligned," Diana said smiling, "and brought you back to us."

She took his hand again as Flash zoomed around the table, depositing iced mochas for everyone.

"I only wish Batman were here…" Diana looked at GL. She was enjoying Clark's company again, as was everybody. She knew that Bruce, despite his cool demeanor, respected Clark as a man and was quite fond of him. She wasn't expecting anything gushy or affectionate, but something more Batman-like… he would poke his head in and ask for a report or something and then be on his way… but he would have seen his old friend. Even Batman has friends.

"Where _is_ he?" she asked nobody in particular. "Couldn't he take an hour out of his day to…"

As if on cue, the doors slid open to reveal the silhouette of the Dark Knight.

* * *

"How DARE you?!" 

Lex Luthor slammed a solid fist down on his desk as his face reddened with anger. He had finally pieced together the answer to the mystery he had been working on – ironically, the same mystery the Justice League was investigating. The League called the answer "Mastermind". Until now, Lex had referred to that person as "Mr. X". Now Lex had a name.

"Do you know," Luthor continued, "how long I worked and _slaved_ on this project? Do you have any idea how much money your little scam _wasted_?!"

"You came to me…"

"NO!" Luthor screamed. "I did NOT come to you! I _found_ you. I _saved_ you. And when I asked you to simply wait for the prime moment I had planned on for _months_, you go off half-cocked and set me and my company back _thousands_ of man-hours in planning and production and _millions_ in capital and material… not to mention the publicity nightmare we're still cleaning up."

"Don't grow too arrogant with your actions Lex Luthor," the calm voice warned. "You did no saving when you brought me here."

Lex's disposition suddenly shifted from antagonizing to defensive. He had tried taking on the position of authority, only to have his bluff be called. But Lex Luthor is a master at deception. There was no trace of backing down in his voice or demeanor.

It was a rare thing for Lex Luthor to come face-to-face with a situation so big even he couldn't control it. There were only a handful of people in the world that he couldn't manipulate, buy or neutralize. Now he was forced to acknowledge that he may be facing an 'ally' that would not take orders from him and a situation that he was not the master of. The feeling was not something he welcomed.

"As I was saying," Lex's impassive co-conspirator continued, "You came to me with your plans, which were impressive despite the obvious flaws."

"Flaws…" Lex scoffed.

"All I did was broaden the scope."

"What you did was embarrass me and put the Justice League on my back!"

"While that may be true, what you fail to recognize is that Superman has been neutralized and the Justice League is undoubtedly in the throes of turmoil."

"What are you talking about?" Lex demanded. "That damn alien was in the news just the other day, stopping some…"

"What you saw was an alien, but it was not Superman."

Sudden realization screamed through Luthor's brain and made his heart thump in his chest. He sat back in his expensive chair and turned to look out his office window at the setting sun. His remarkable brain processed that revelation as his mood downshifted from fear and anger, through surprise and into discovery.

"The Martian…" he said understanding.

"Yes."

Lex's eyes darted back and forth while he calculated the possibilities. If this new information proved to be true, then everything has changed.

"We'll need to confirm that," he said quietly.

* * *

Clark rose to his feet as Batman approached. As he drew closer, he extended his hand. The Dark Knight paused briefly, deliberately for effect, then took it. 

"It's good to see you, Batman."

Nod.

"Clark was assigned to cover the robbery that Superman foiled yesterday," Lantern reported simply for show. "We were just finishing up."

"Good," Batman said coldly taking his seat. "Because there are some items to discuss…"

"Then I should probably be going…" Clark offered selflessly, though it felt like a stab in the chest as he picked up his jacket, pencil & notepad and started to leave.

He walked slowly around the table towards the door. With every step he took, his heart sank a little more. He was hoping against hope that somebody would speak up for him, would tell him that he was still welcome and should stay to listen. He got half way towards the exit when he was shocked by the one who finally did.

"Actually, Clark," Batman stopped him, "I think you should stay for this."

A wash of relief fell over the reporter as he turned around and retook his seat. He made a conscious decision to keep his mouth shut for the duration of whatever they had to discuss unless he was specifically asked for his input. As much as it bothered him to acknowledge, this was a League meeting and unless told otherwise, he would approach it as if he were a guest.

"This is all off the record," Batman said with a nod towards Clark's notepad.

"Of course," Clark said, understanding and sliding the tablet into his shirt pocket.

Taking a second to make sure he had everybody's attention, Batman began his report.

"Several thousand gallons of chemicals have been reported stolen at various plants across North America, Europe and Asia over the past 24 hours."

"What kind of Chemicals?" Hawkgirl asked.

"Among others, the kind Scarecrow uses."

Batman paused to let the magnitude of that news sink in.

"Scarecrow, however," he continued, "is still locked away. I have information confirming that he hasn't had any visitors or contact with people outside Arkham for over 4 weeks."

"Do we have any clues who did it?" Flash asked.

"Nothing positive, but the methods used indicate that the thefts are all related."

"Whoever it is," Green Lantern surmised, "seems to work on an international scale. It wouldn't be easy to coordinate an operation like that across the globe without some major resources."

"That, and they'd have to know the formula to Scarecrow's poisons," Hawkgirl added as she processed the info.

Batman turned to Clark.

"The Daily Planet" he started, "will no doubt investigate the thefts since the largest chemical plant in Metropolis was one of the ones hit. See if you can't get assigned to the story and let us know of anything unusual… things that may not be… appropriate to print."

Clark nodded in understanding.

"Next item," Batman said looking at Flash. "Cunningham Technologies is in your city."

"Yeah, I know a guy who used to work there."

"One of the suspects apprehended with the ACCORD incident had a stolen security badge for Cunningham in his apartment. Along with that, there are other indications that "Mastermind" may have planned to use that group to steal some prototypes of their new equipment."

Batman flipped open the cover to the keyboard at his seat and typed a few commands. The center of the round table sank to the floor and a holographic projection of some sophisticated equipment materialized in its place.

"They are developing portable EMP devices designed for use by police departments in high-speed car chases."

"I've heard about those," Hawkgirl said leaning forward. "The devices are mounted on the front of the squad cars and can disable the electronics of any car they are pursuing. Should save a lot of lives and property damage…"

"And if amplified, could be used from the ground to disable aircraft flying overhead," Batman finished for her.

Flash used the ensuing pause to think about what a dangerous criminal Batman could have been.

The rest of Batman's list was relatively mundane. There were reports on assignments. Green Lantern requested some time off for personal reasons. It would be hurricane season again soon and evacuations would be required no doubt. Etc, etc, etc.

Clark sat and listened as respectfully as he could, but he couldn't get around the fact that there was really nothing he could do about any of it any more. As Batman and the others discussed different topics, he realized that he had nothing to say. He started to feel the frustration and helplessness that goes along with such situations. He started to believe that he had no business associating with these incredible people any more. He felt like it was a waste of his time and theirs to still be sitting there.

He remained inexpressive, but the frustration inside was building into rage. He wanted to throw the chairs around the room and rip open the steel doors with his bare hands. Such was the feeling of helplessness – something he had never endured at length before.

_Why did Batman want me to stay for this? What am I now, his errand boy? "Clark, go cover that story…" What am I _doing here?_ I feel so bloody useless!_

_You shouldn't. _J'onn interrupted Clark's thoughts. It had been a while since the two friends had communicated telepathically and it took Clark a second to realize the voice in his head was not his own. He forced himself to calm down.

_Sorry, J'onn. Was I thinking that loudly?_

_Yes._

Clark glanced an apologetic look at the huge green hero sitting on the other side of Batman.

_Batman wanted you to stay because he believes you are still a member of the Justice League. And although there are still security concerns, he's not going to shut you out completely._

Sitting back, relaxing, Clark's mood completely reversed. The rage disappeared like wisps of smoke in the wind. And the hole inside that he had been feeling since he awoke from the coma, the hole that he had learned to accept and live with, suddenly it didn't feel so big.

Until this very moment, all hope and optimism Clark had about regaining his powers were the workings within his own head. He had been talking himself away from depression and despair, and doing an admirable job, but it had all been by himself. Even the news about the development of counter devices wasn't that optimistic except from his point of view. This revelation, however, was something else.

He needed this. He needed this confirmation from another person to truly believe that he really would be back soon. And although it took J'onn to make him understand it, the fact that Batman was the source of the confirmation was the best possible situation. Of all his teammates, for Batman to shine a ray of hope into a situation… that was something special.

For Clark, the room felt more comfortable. He hadn't grown, but he felt a little taller. He looked at his friend and colleague in the black cape with that much more respect and appreciation.

And he felt, once again, like he truly belonged here.

* * *

Lois Lane was driving her way to work the day after Clark's article made page 8. The story was complete in all technical terms, but Lois needed more. While she couldn't put her finger on it, there was still something not right. There were still unanswered questions in her mind about Superman and his elusiveness over the past few weeks. That and she'd never been invited up to the Watchtower! 

She resolved to corner her colleague and pump him for some inside info on anything Justice League that he may have observed in orbit. She didn't know if she should take the direct approach and grill it out of him or the sultry approach and coax it out of him. While she weighed her options, her radio announced breaking news.

"…runaway freight train headed towards Metropolis…"

Turning up the volume to drown out all the ambient noise, Lois absorbed the details. All communications with the engineers had been lost 15 minutes ago. Soon after, the train had started speeding up – far too fast for its size, especially since it was heading into the Metropolis freight yards.

According to the report, the Justice League had been called. Flash was on his way in and he was going to board the train and try to stop it from the inside. If that failed, then Superman was waiting at the edge of the city and he would stop it by force. Lois had to turn her car around and head out towards the city limits in order to catch the action, and hopefully pin down her favorite man in blue tights for a few comments. She only had a few precious moments to fight her way through traffic to get to the scene.

* * *

"Catching it was easy," Flash said over the noise from inside the lead engine over the com link. "But the controls aren't responding. The engineers are out cold – I can't revive them." 

"Sever the connections between the engines and the rest of the train," Batman suggested from the Watchtower.

"Right."

Flash zipped out along the catwalk of the yellow and black diesel engines and made his way to the back of the last one. Hanging on tight to the cold steel railings with one hand and leaning dangerously out into mid air, he had to kick at the linkages below to try to separate the 5 engines from the mile and a half long line of freight cars. It took a few seconds, but he was able to break the ables at their junction.

"I've disconnected the train from the engines!" he shouted over the noise.

"Good," Batman's voice sounded in his ear. "That should automatically trigger all the cars in the train to break."

It seemed to Flash that "Superman's" help might not be needed after all. That optimism sank into a ball of urgency within his chest after a couple seconds when he realized that the train was not slowing.

"Uh, Bats," he called, trying to sound urgent but not panicky, "we're not slowing down!"

"Uncouple the engines from the rest of the train," Batman ordered. "It will be easier for J'onn to stop 5 engines if they don't have 200,000 tons of mass behind them."

"Got it!"

Flash strained against the linkage disconnect. At first, nothing moved, it seemed the tension was too great. With continued effort, he was able to open the clasps, only to find that they were welded together underneath – where nobody would notice. A terrible thought ran through his head. He jumped off the speeding train and, streaking along side, he checked every single linkage. They were _all_ covertly welded together. No controls, no breaks, no way to uncouple the cars… Somebody had sabotaged the train.

"We've got a _big problem!"_

He filled the rest of his comrades in on the situation. It was too late to derail it, since it was already flying through residential areas at over 50 miles per hour and accelerating. There was evidently no way to stop the train with normal means – they'd have to find a way to do it by taking drastic measures. Flash was ordered to get the engineers off the train and to the hospital, which he was able to do at ridiculous speed.

"J'onn, can you stop that thing before it hits the Metropolis freight yards?" Batman asked although he already knew the answer. As strong as he is, the Martian Manhunter doesn't have the power to resist that much momentum.

"No."

"Wonder Woman, can you get there in time to help J'onn?"

"I'm in Venezuela," her voice broke in electronically. "I'm in the middle of something here!"

There were only seconds to decide. Sitting in the Monitor Womb, Batman looked out the enormous window at the Earth, his brain screamming through the consequences of not stopping the impending wreckage. Something _had_ to be done.

Almost instantly, he knew what he had to do. Calling upon his incredible new power of speed, he used his pirated pass code to break into Superman's personal quarters, stole what he needed and raced to the teleporter. Punching in coordinates near the Metropolis freight yards, he beamed himself to the surface. Invisibly, he raced his way to stand next to his teammate.

"This does not look good," J'onn spoke using Superman's voice with more calm than could be imagined in such a situation.

Mentally, Batman quickly outlined his plot.

'_I want you wait for the train and brace yourself as if you're going to stop it,'_ he thought to his teammate, _'then phase through it and make your way to the engineering spaces.'_

'_What are you going to do?'_

'_I'm not going to do anything,'_ Batman though with a somewhat bemused tone, _'Superman is going to stop that train.'_

There was no time to question his meaning. "Superman" took a deep breath and fought to control his alien version of nervousness.

'_One more thing,'_ Batman added, _'stoop a little.'_

J'onn didn't know that Batman was looking right at him, but he _heard_ the mental chuckle made at his expense when he couldn't hide his expression of confusion.

The ground started to rumble under their feet and the headlights of the train grew brighter as the behemoth lumbered down the tracks right at them. The sound grew louder and the front of the engine was like a solid wall of yellow and black painted steel closing in on them at break-neck speed.

'Superman' struck a ready stance, preparing himself for the collision. He lowered his head and brought his hands up, ready to catch the streaking doom flying at him. The news helicopters circled overhead, adding to the commotion, and a thousand eyes and cameras were peeking out from behind concealed corners to catch the calamity, but J'onn concentrated on maintaining his appearance and not phasing until the last possible second. He had no idea how Batman was going to stage it to look like Superman saved the day again.

As the engine loomed over him and the rush of wind billowed his red cape off his back, J'onn changed his density and phased through the steel. There was a crashing noise behind him and almost immediately and the train started gently slowing down. He floated his way to the engineering spaces and waited for further instructions as the sound of shrieking metal on metal and the thunder of buckling railroad ties echoed around him. The dust and debris flew outside the windows.

"J'onn!" Batman's straining voice sounded over the com link, "Phase into the engine compartments and crush the fuel lines! That should shut them down!"

Complying, Martian Manhunter phased through the five engines, disabling them one by one. By the time he shut the last one down, the train was moving at a more reasonable speed. Within a minute, walking pace, followed shortly by a complete stop altogether.

'_No get out here "Superman"'_

Phasing back out the front of the train, J'onn was greeted by dust, smoke and debris everywhere. Despite the chaos and noise of the helicopters overhead, and the growing crowd of admirers that were seemingly emerging from nowhere now that the danger had passed, it almost seemed quiet within the clouds of ruin and it was impossible for him to see more than a few inches. Within seconds, Flash was on sight, speeding in tight circles to clear the air. J'onn/Superman stood in front of the indentations made by two hands into the thick metal frame of the lead locomotive. It had taken almost a mile and a half, but the train had been stopped without a single car jumping the tracks.

The crowd started cheering.

Batman was nowhere in sight.

* * *

**AN: As always, thank you, thank you, thank you to those that have reviewed! For an author, it's pretty darn cool to find out that people may actually be enjoying all the work and effort - even if it's a quick note.**

**To Anon:  
SSSSHHHH!**


	11. Chapter 11: Charade

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

**AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me.**

* * *

Chapter 11: Charade 

Clark Kent stepped out of the elevator and was curious at the bustle he found. Everybody on the whole floor seemed to be extraordinarily busy this morning – even for The Daily Planet. Making his way towards his desk, he removed his hat and overcoat and tried to take in what was happening.

He found a small band of coworkers huddled around an outdated television watching live news coverage of the unbelievable situation. He could barely make out the words the reporter in the helicopter spoke, but the camera angle showed the incredible action. He recognized the neighborhood even from the aerial vantage point, as he was so familiar with Metropolis from that angle.

The screen showed a shaky zoomed-in view of a train engine shooting along the tracks at far too high a speed for residential area travel. A red streak clearly zipped along the side and up into the lead engine. The camera zoomed in closer to the door through which Flash had entered only for the hero to streak back out after a few seconds and off the screen.

The cameraman zoomed out recklessly and panned back along the train until he spotted the Scarlet Speedster dangling precariously between the 5th engine and the first freight car. He was kicking at a large linkage on a one-inch thick cable. When the linkage gave, Flash righted himself back up to the catwalk.

'_Atta boy, Wally!_ Clark thought as he smiled proudly.

The camera zoomed back out to show more of the train and Clark caught words from the reporter such as _linkage, slow down, freight yard_ and _Superman_.

After a couple seconds, the image showed Flash speeding along the entire length of the train, then into each of the five diesels and re-emerging every time with a limp body over his shoulder. At blistering speed, he raced each man off the train and returned for another and another.

The snippets of the news reporter's voice grew even more tense and slightly louder.

"Turn it up!" somebody shouted in the room. A young woman reached up and raised the volume.

"…the train is _not_ slowing down. It appears that Flash is getting the engineers to safety and _Superman_ will have to stop the train."

"Cindy," the news anchor in the studio said, "it sounds like this is what the Justice League wanted to avoid because of the danger of the train derailing. Is that correct?"

"That's right, Chuck," the reporter replied, "when the train is stopped from the front like that, there is a danger that…"

Clark didn't listen to the rest of the reporter's babble. He knew that J'onn would be on-sight in the form of Superman, but he also knew that there was no way the Martian would be able to stop the train using brute force.

_What the hell are you doing, J'onn?!_

"This oughta be cool!" Jimmy said, nudging Clark.

"Huh, yeah…" Clark replied, but deep down inside his worry boiled over into despair.

_J'onn just can't do it._ If Wonder Woman had to come in, then that would raise all kinds of questions and concerns; Why would Superman need help? Clark impatiently and uncharacteristically shushed some people in the gathering that were growing boisterous. His tension was growing unbearably.

The video image panned up the tracks onto the waiting form of Superman, standing like a statue in the path of unimaginable danger… like he had done so many times before. The helicopter gave up racing along the speeding train and hovered over it as it streaked below at the lone blue and red figure that stood down the tracks.

He was too far away to for the cameraman to clearly zoom in on, but Clark could clearly see Superman shifting his stance in preparation for the impact. Within moments, the enormous metal monster eclipsed the hero and a split second after, billows of smoke and debris shot out around the nose of the train as if it were plowing through grotesquely colored snow.

"… Superman seems to be slowing the train down gradually, as to not derail it…"

It seemed like an eternity to Clark as he watched the train continue along its path with dust and debris scattering off the front. He finally understood what the expression "like watching a train wreck" really meant.

The slowing hulk trudged along, making its way towards the first turnouts of the freight yards. When it looked like disaster may have indeed been averted, the helicopter again raced along the tracks to hover over the front end of the train as it crawled along. The camera angle finally allowed brief glimpses of red cape that could be spied through the clouds of dust and debris as everything finally came to a stop.

When it was all over, the familiar red streak zipped in and whirled the air clear. The image on the television then focused on the two heroes standing side-by-side, smiling. Superman hesitantly returned Flash's high-five.

_Well done, J'onn! _Clark thought more surprised and impressed than thankful.

The angle of the camera changed as the helicopter circled. Zooming out, Clark saw the railroad workers and residents that had been standing by in morbid curiosity. A few news vans were there and the people were closing in on his old friends, cheering and waiving and shouting.

"Turn to channel 7!" somebody shouted as they entered the room.

When the screen settled on the new station, Clark and his coworkers were witness to a replay of the event from the ground. The Channel 7 News crew was able to set up a safe distance away from the tracks and catch remarkable footage of Superman in action as the train plowed him along the tracks.

The slow-motion replay showed a close-up of the front end of the train and swirls of smoke and railroad ties and rubble flying around the blue and red form. He was barely visible through the cover, but the editors had found a few short seconds that clearly showed the straining figure of Superman, leaning with unimaginable might against the load. His bright red boots were visible. His red cape was held against his body by the rush of dusty wind. His strong blue arms stretched out straight against the engine. His hands weren't visible because they were imbedded in the metal. And his head was tucked down to his chest and obscured by his muscular shoulders as he struggled with the delicate balance of stopping the mass slowly so that none of the cars jumped the tracks. All that was visible of his face was a small patch of forehead under disheveled black hair.

* * *

Lois had just gotten her press pass out of her purse when the police officer blocking her way recognized her and let her through. She allowed herself a brief flash of satisfaction as she put the ID away, then regained her motivation to fight her way to the front of the growing crowd and get the attention of Superman. 

The choppers overhead hovered like gnats and the scene and the throngs of people pushed against the two men in colorful tight suits. Police and other emergency responders were trying to make their way to the center of the mass in order to secure a little breathing room for Superman and Flash, but they were meeting a lot of resistance.

Lois elbowed her way past people and shot an icy glare at a railroad worker that called her 'toots'. Eventually, she found herself at the human fence of police and firefighters. Reporters were already shouting out questions.

Superman had deliberately stood behind Flash and shunned all questions in order for his teammate to take control of the situation. After a few short moments of being ignored, most of the reporters simply started throwing questions at 'the red one' rather than 'the blue one'.

Flash was in his element, smiling for the cameras, answering questions for the female reporters before the male ones.

"Is it true somebody sabotaged the train?"

"Well, _Cheryl_ is it? We're going to help in the investigation to find out exactly that."

"Flash, where did you take the Engineers?"

"They're in the good hands of the fine doctors and nurses at Metropolis Mercy Hospital."

"How did you disable the engines?"

"How did _I_ disable the engines? Uh…"

"He didn't," Superman helped, "The Martian Manhunter was able to phase into the engines and crush the fuel lines."

"Where is Martian Manhunter? We didn't see him."

"He boarded the train unseen and made his way to the engine compartments. He had to leave immediately after."

"Superman!" Lois shouted, finding a pause long enough to do so.

"Yes?" he responded as impersonally as if she were just another pretty face.

The impassive expression on the towering hero made Lois miraculously speechless. She could see it in his eyes; there was no familiarity there, no recognition… no affection. It felt like a knife in her chest and for a brief second, she felt pressure and welling behind her eyes.

_J'onn!!! _Flash thought as loudly as he could.

Superman noticeably flinched.

_That's Lois Lane! She works at the Daily Planet with Clark. She and Superman have… a _thing_ going on!_

'Superman' glanced at Flash and saw the look of admonishment on his comrade's face. Turning back to Lois:

"Oh, Lois!" he said rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you. I still have some dust in my eyes!"

The skepticism on her face was obvious and not going away.

This was just the latest in a long string of subtle details that had been needling her for the past couple weeks about her Man of Steel. Things that only the most ardent observer would catch and only somebody with the most intimate knowledge of Superman would find unusual. Lois is both.

The elusiveness, the stiff demeanor, the fact that he hasn't been seen using many of his most common abilities… it was all building up. It was becoming too much. The smile and the posture and the hair were all the same, but this man standing in front of her was NOT Superman. She was sure of that.

Her face melted into an unashamed scowl. J'onn was able to feel her anger, and was barely able to disguise his concern. He blocked the negativity oozing out of the pretty dark-haired reporter with knitted eyebrows and tried to concentrate on how Superman would behave in a situation like this. He hoped that it wasn't too late to save face.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he said as pleasantly as he dared, "How have you been?"

No answer.

_Kal El!!!_

Many miles away, Clark Kent's head snapped at the sudden intrusion into his mind.

_J'onn?_

_Yes. I could use your assistance!_

_What's wrong?_

_I'll show you. Get to a private place quickly._

Clark scanned around the room to see if anybody was paying any attention in his direction. Thankfully, and predictably, nobody was. He quickly, made his way to a janitorial closet unnoticed and went inside. Flipping the light on and finding out there was no lock, he called to his friend.

_OK, I'm alone._

With that, Clark's mind went awash with dizziness and disorientation. The shelves of cleaning solvents in front of him disappeared and through waves of light and shimmering he was finally able to focus on the very upset and beautiful countenance of his Lois.

_J'onn, what the…_

_I am linked to you with all 5 of your senses. You will hear and see what I do while we maintain contact. You must be Superman for a few moments and placate your colleague!_

J'onn's thoughts sounded strained in Clark's head. Whatever he was doing was obviously taking a tremendous toll on his mind.

The tingling sensation Clark felt settled into a familiar aura around him. He immediately recognized that he was, for all intents and purposes, inhabiting J'onn's body and J'onn was impersonating Superman at the same time. In a ridiculously convoluted way, Clark was Superman again, if only for a few moments.

"Lois?" he asked.

The disgruntled reporter stared defiantly into the haunting blue eyes as they somehow seemed to soften before her. Gone was the unyielding presence and in it's place a familiarity set in. Superman took a small step towards her and lowered his head to get his face directly in her line of sight to make sure he had her full attention.

"Are you OK?" he asked sincerely concerned.

Whatever she didn't trust about this person standing before her was inexplicably gone now. With him standing so close, within arm's length, she felt once again like her Superman was with her. All the eyes and cameras and voices couldn't shake her, and without thought, her face bloomed into a bashful smile. She let out a laugh despite herself and hid half her face with her hand.

Shaking it off, she regained her composure. After all, this was a big story right in front of her in a skin-tight blue and red package.

"Uh, Superman…" she said, forcing formality into her voice, "how were you able to stop the train without any of the cars falling off the tracks?"

Modestly, and sincerely, Superman shrugged.

"I tried my best to make sure nobody got hurt," he said simply. "Sometimes I get lucky."

Flash's two-dimensional smile dropped into a goofy grin of astonishment as his eyes widened. He couldn't believe he heard J'onn say that – what an act!

"You mean you were 'Lucky'?" Lois said into her voice recorder. The listening crowd murmured in amusement.

"Well, it was a team effort, really," Superman said, true to form. "Flash got the engineers to safety…"

He put his hand on the younger hero's shoulder.

_Don't forget how the Martian Manhunter shut down the engines!_ J'onn's straining voice echoed in his head, though Clark wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"… And J'onn J'onzz – the Martian Manhunter - was able to shut down the engines…"

"Yes, but the whole freight yard would have been demolished if _you_ hadn't…" another reporter interrupted.

"Like I said," Superman announced for all to hear, "It was a _team_ effort."

He looked around at the crowd to see if there were any signs of dispute in the eyes that met his. In finding none, he turned delicately back towards Lois. Their eyes locked and he managed a polite wink.

_Kal El, please make this quick, I can't maintain the connection much longer…_

Standing up tall again, Superman raised his hands and motioned towards the streets.

"People, this is still an unsafe area. There's a lot of mess to clean up and many of you don't look like you're dressed to help…"

The rescue personnel followed his lead and started ushering the masses off the tracks towards their cars and vans and the sidewalk. Flash jabbed the Boy Scout in the arm.

"Well done," he whispered.

_J'onn, I think it's safe to stop now._

Clark felt a warm rush through his mind and his body went numb for a second. When he was finally able to focus, he was greeted with mop handles and fluorescent lighting and the scent of industrial-strength pine cleaner.

* * *

"You were wrong," Lex accused, though his eyes never left the myriad of monitors in front of him. 

When he got no answer, he pressed the issue.

"The Martian isn't powerful enough to do that," he said motioning towards one screen that showed a profile view of Superman clearly stopping the train.

"And he can't be two places at once," he continued, pointing at a grainy black and white image taken from a hidden camera inside one of the diesel engines that showed J'onn reaching his arm through a steel panel to crush the fuel line.

"Superman _is_ no more."

"Then who the hell is that?!" Luthor shouted, his eyes locked on an affectionate moment between the Man of Steel and a gutsy female reporter in khakis and a black blazer.

"That is the Martian."

"I just told you…"

"I don't know who stopped the train, but it was not Superman. And the person you're seeing now is the Martian in disguise."

"And I suppose you have proof of this?" Lex scoffed.

"I plan on acquiring it soon."

"When?"

"Right now."

* * *

Superman and Flash followed the wall of police officers, fire fighters and railroad security officers off the rocky railroad bedding and across the thin weeds to the sidewalk. The reporters were safely off the grounds of the Metropolis Freight Yard and the shunting engines were already in route to the scene to break things down. 

"You're getting pretty good at playing Superman," Flash said so that only J'onn could hear.

"It wasn't me," he said smiling and waiving at the cameras.

"Well then who…"

Flash didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. An earth-shattering explosion rocked the area and pieces of steel shrapnel flew mercilessly in all directions from the fifth engine behind them. Windows shattered and the helicopters hovering overhead were thrown into turmoil from the blast. Three railroad workers were killed instantly and little would ever be found of them. The crowd of fans and admirers and reporters were pelted and wounded by the flying shards. The resulting fireball billowed into the air in a dramatic mushroom cloud, hanging a black stem of smoke in its wake.

Flash was back on his feet before anybody could blink.

"LOOK OUT!"

The other engines' fuel tanks had ruptured from the blast and spewed burning fuel out in all directions. J'onn, still in the form of Superman, vaulted into the air to escape the inferno and Flash was able to whirl a shield of wind with his arms to protect the civilians.

"You make sure the helicopters are OK!" he shouted to Superman.

Nodding, he soared up and away from the scene and surveyed the aircraft. Most were fine and retreating as fast as possible, but two seemed to be in trouble and were spinning out of control.

Concentrating on working like Superman, J'onn swooped into the path of one and grabbed hold of the runners underneath. He looked up through the floor windows at the pilot, who was struggling with the controls. When the vehicle was finally righted, the pilot nodded and Superman flew off to save the other chopper.

On the ground, Flash was spinning his arms mercilessly, to keep the flames back, but he could not put them out. He hoped he could keep it up until the fire engines nearby could get into place.

_J'onn, the fire's too intense! You gotta get out of here!_

_But Superman can't leave at a time like this!_

J'onn's thoughts were true. Although _he_ was particularly vulnerable to fire, _Superman_ was not. How could he fight this latest disaster as Superman when in reality he was powerless?

'_Get down here next to Flash'_ another voice sounded in his mind.

_Batman?_

Trying to not look concerned, Superman landed safely next to the young hero who was sweating and struggling with exhaustion.

"I told you to leave," Flash grunted through clenched teeth.

"I told him to stay," Batman's voice sounded out of nowhere.

"What do you want me to do?" J'onn asked his invisible colleague.

"Blow."

The throngs of people in the area were either struggling to take cover from the intense heat, running for their lives incase another explosion happened or unable to do either because of injury. The emergency personnel were treating as many of the wounded as they could and the bodies and debris scattered all over the area made it impossible for the fire engines to get any closer. The firefighters were working tirelessly to hook up lengths of hose to help fight the blaze.

Those that had the opportunity were watching Superman and Flash, working again to save the day for the second time this hour. They could hear a rush of wind over the roar of flames and watched as the enormous chest behind the "S" swelled up with an unworldly draw of breath. His eyes wide with effort, Superman threw his body into the act of blowing burning fuel away from the crowd and into the open spaces of the freight yard.

Of course, J'onn was just going through the motions. What the crowd could _not_ see was the Dark Knight standing immediately in front of him. He was the one that drew in the breath. It was his lungs that produced the hurricane wind that flung the burning liquid far, far away. It was his breath that knocked the two front engines onto their sides. And it was Superman who got the credit, just like he wanted.

* * *

"What did I miss?" Green Lantern asked as he walked into the cafeteria. 

"Nothing." Batman said coldly as he walked out, his bottle of water refilled.

"Oh, John…" Flash said zipping up to his buddy and shaking his hand. "John, John, it was _amazing!_ (welcome back by the way) You should have _seen_ it!"

"Superman saved the day," Hawkgirl summed up dramatically, waving an arm like a game show hostess.

"He did, huh?" Green Lantern smiled at J'onn.

"It wasn't me," the Martian admitted.

Flash took back center stage and in true Flash form, reenacted more than recalled the incidents of that morning on the Metropolis railroad. His acuracy not withstanding, it was an amusing performance.

He tried to tell Hawkgirl when she returned to the Watchtower after her mission, but got so many things wrong that J'onn had to stop him at almost every point. There were so many things that happened that Flash hadn't seen, heard or _'heard'_. But, eventually, the whole yarn was spun to the agreement of both men. Batman didn't even stay for the first act.

This time, Flash got the story right.

"Let me see if I got this straight," John interrupted when Flash finally had to pause for a breath. "Batman can turn invisible, stop a freight train a mile and a half long with his bare hands and can blow a burning pool of diesel fuel across the freight yard?"

"I know," Flash cried flexing his hands in mid air, "How cool is _that_?!"

The Green Lantern shook his head and blew out a cleansing breath. He was having trouble believing what he was hearing. And like Hawkgirl, he was having trouble figuring out what to make of all of this.

It was undeniably a good thing that he had saved the day. That was certain.

What was not so certain was if the fact that the League wasn't made aware of the extent of his new powers – especially the ability to turn invisible - was a good thing. As much as they trust him, and as common as it is for Batman to keep things to himself, it was something else entirely for him to keep news like _this_ a secret. Flash hadn't thought that part out yet, but John, J'onn and Shayera had.

"And here!" Flash cried, turning Lantern's chair towards the lounge and the monitors within. "Watch the footage!"

Flash scrolled the digital recorder through the whole incident, stopping at all the important parts. He paused longest on his own performance - long enough to try GL's patience. Eventually he got to the good stuff.

* * *

Lex Luthor was watching virtually the same footage at the same time as the members of the Justice League. He was looking for some conclusive evidence that the hero of the day was an imposter and not the real Superman. He didn't believe he'd find any and his prophesy seemed self-realizing. 

"I don't see it," he declared, turning away from the screen, the video still rolling.

"You will."

Sighing, Luthor turned back towards the screen only to grow more impatient at the smiling faces of the two Superhero friends walking off the tracks. The improvised crowd control moved the masses back onto the sidewalks and side streets when suddenly the screen flashed to static as the train exploded.

When the image resurfaced, it was clear that the cameraman was on the ground and looking up. The dizzying angle swayed around until the form of a hovering superman found its way to the center of the screen. The image then zoomed in to show the hero's surprised face.

"There."

The image paused.

Lex was about to deny he saw anything significant. Everybody was surprised by that explosion, and Superman had been taken by surprise many times.

Then Lex's own expression fell blank. He leaned forward in his chair as his mouth opened ever so slightly. It was right there, clear as day in his adversary's eyes.

"Fear," he whispered.

"That's correct. J'onn J'onzz cannot withstand fire. In short, he is afraid of it."

"But Superman…"

"The _real_ Superman would have taken action immediately…"

"And not waited for that circus freak Flash to tell him what to do."

"Precisely."

* * *

Clark was surprised to see Lois at the Daily Planet. She had her right forearm wrapped up and she obviously hadn't given any consideration to any cosmetics since the explosion at the train yards. 

"Lois," he got her attention as she sped past him like he was a wall fixture. "Are you OK?"

She looked at him like he was speaking Swahili.

"Your arm…" he said taking her hand and examining her bandages. "Shouldn't you be…"

"I'm fine." She said taking her limb back and making a beeline for her desk. She was on a Lois Lane self-assigned mission and nobody was going to secure her attention until she was done.

There was something in her eyes that made Clark uneasy. He followed behind her as she sat down at her desk and fired up her computer. She dropped her purse and pulled out one of her desk drawers. After an impatient moment of riffling, she produced a business card that Clark recognized.

Lois started dialing her phone, still paying no attention to the fact that Clark was standing right behind her chair.

"Hello, Justice League!" she said loudly with forced pleasantry. "This is Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. I would appreciate it if you could call me back and tell me where the real Superman has been for the past four weeks!"

* * *

**AN: As always... thanks to all of you that are reading this story. I hope you're enjoying it. I hope even more that you like where I take it before it's all over. I know it's long, but there's a lot to tell!**

**AN: An extra special thanks to those that submit reviews! It's one thing to see the number of hits to a story go up - that means people are looking at it... it's something else entirely to get feedback - that let's me know how I'm doing!**

**AN: Anybody figure out who Mastermind is? Drop me a line if you think you know!**

**To LPJ:  
Thanks for the reveiw! I hope you like future installments.**

**To moi:  
It can't ALL be romance! Check my bio line... I'm a guy! Action of all kinds is required. ;)**


	12. Chapter 12: Turning Points

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me. Also, this is basically my take on the whole Justice League storyline, so I guess that makes it AU, doesn't it?

AN: It's been a while since I last posted. I'm sorry about that. Been pretty busy. I'll try to get stuff out more regularly. I thank you for your patience.

* * *

Chapter 12: Turning points 

"Lois, what are you _doing?!"_

"I'm finding out why the Justice League is duping the whole world," she responded adamantly, her face locked in a satisfied smile as she stared at the phone she just hung up.

"What are you _talking_ about?" Clark demanded in a forceful whisper, checking around the office out of the corners of his glasses for anybody that may be taking interest in their activities.

She had left a scathing, accusatory message for the Justice League, demanding that they reveal what has really happened to Superman. With that message now being electronically checked by the Watchtower's sorting software, Lois simply had to sit back and wait.

She finally swiveled her chair around to face Clark. She didn't even try to hide the smug expression adorning her face.

"I'll be happy to tell you…" she sang, then began her litany of 'clues'.

As she continued on, growing louder, bolder, Clark grew more weary and nervous of people around them. He did his best to not look concerned, but he couldn't help it. Her heated monologue was verging on a full-fledged rant. He tried more than once to calm her down – trying to make it look like he didn't want her to appear crazy to any passers by. In reality, she was scaring the snot out of him with her accuracy and conclusions. It would be one tough task to get her off this trail.

"… they even had _you_ fooled when you were up there…"

_Oh, no._

That one statement drew a line in the sand, and Clark knew it. There was no way to remain neutral on the subject now that she had pulled him into it, citing his little visit to the Watchtower, and basically _involving_ him. If he continued to insist that the League wasn't up to something, then he was declaring that Lois was wrong, effectively siding with them and against her. Otherwise, he would have to come to her side of the argument, which would in turn call for him to help her in her cause, of course.

Clark Kent was now forced to decide between The Justice League and Lois Lane.

He tuned her out as she continued on her tirade, venting her thoughts. He slowly grabbed a chair and sat quietly contemplating his next move. Letting out a sigh and rubbing his eyes under his glasses, he sat still for a few moments. His gaze drifted to an imaginary point a thousand miles away, one arm cocked across his chest and his other hand, clenched tightly as a fist, covered his mouth as he concentrated.

_What would Bruce do?_

_No, not Bruce. Dad…_

_What would Dad say was the right thing to do?_

She didn't notice his absent expression, or if she did, she simply believed he was absorbing all of her verbal run-on. Before too long, without active feedback from Clark, she began to actually notice the expressions of the odd person passing by. Not that their opinions would sway her from believing she was on to something big, but it did bring her back to the reality that she was still in the Daily Planet building and making an awful lot of noise.

"Now," she announced, finally wrapping up her performance, "tell me I'm wrong."

When Clark didn't flinch, she considered that he actually might not have been listening.

"HEY! Smallville!" she called, kicking his shoe.

Clark slowly turned his head to look at her. She couldn't read his expression. There was something in his blue eyes that she didn't understand. It was foreign to see such distance in Clark's expression.

"You _are_ listening," she asked, raising her eyebrows, "aren't you?"

"Yes," Clark stammered, his attention suddenly snapping back to her. "Yes, I was… And I was thinking about how you could be on to something here…"

"On to something?" she asked as if somebody had just told her she had a third arm growing out her forehead, "I'm on to _everything!_ They've had The Martian Manhunter impersonating Superman ever since the ACCORD incident and I just gave you all the proof!"

"What you gave me was a list of specific facts," Clark tried to say reasonably. "What we should do is build a theory from the facts… not simply cite enough facts to make _your_ gut instincts look like the truth."

"Hey," she retorted with a little defensiveness on her face and in her voice, "I've been doing this for a while, y'know… I _know_ how to investigate a story!"

"I know," he surrendered holding up his hands, "I know… But I think we should make sure all our T's are crossed and I's are dotted before we call out the _Justice League_ on a scam, that's all."

Lois folded her arms and looked away. She huffed out a sigh and jutted out her smooth jaw. It seemed to Clark that she was considering what he had proposed. It was too late to stop the ill-mannered phone call, but at least he had succeeded in calming her down. If he played his cards right, he may be able to get her to doubt her own convictions. Maybe.

And he hated that.

He hated the fact that he was continually deceiving this woman. He had always hated saying things and taking actions that effectively amounted to lying in order to cover up his own dual identity as well as the security of his 'other' colleagues. Oh, the safety of those around him was always the big reason, but at times (like these) it was little consolation when he was forced to deliberately defraud a woman like Lois. A woman who, he believed more and more each day, could not only handle the truth, but also handle herself and her own safety.

Not long ago, while convalescing at the Kent farm, he had resolved to tell Lois everything about himself and his life, if necessary. What he was wondering as she sat defiantly with her lips pursed, was if the time to tell all had now come.

Finally, her face lightened and she turned to him with enthusiasm evident in her eyes.

"So when you say '_we_ should make sure'…" she smiled, " you mean that you'll help me on this?"

Before she even finished her question, Clark knew what she was going to ask. He had also realized that, for the sake of appearances at least, he had chosen Lois Lane over the Justice League. If only for a moment.

"Of course!"

* * *

Clark waited for Lois by the elevator at the end of the day. He wasn't able to keep her from dropping the proverbial bomb on the Justice League hotline, but he felt a small sense of satisfaction in that he believed he was instrumental in calming her down to a more rational state. He knew darn well that there would be no way to stop her. All he could do was _guide_ her into safer waters, for the League's sake, for hers, and for his own. He didn't like doing it, but he had to. 

She finally came around the corner, slinging her purse over her shoulder - walking briskly, but not so much in a '_I'm Lois Lane on a mission and you're in may way_' manner.

_This could be a good sign._

"So, how's your day?" he asked innocently enough.

"You mean…" she started irratably, not looking up at him, "besides confirming that the Justice League is staging a conspiracy on a global scale, the fact that Superman's well-being is unknown and he may even be _dead_ (as far as anybody not in orbit knows) and getting 4 stitches in may arm?"

"Uh… yeah," he tried, "besides all that."

"Oh, fine!" she chirped like June Cleaver, then rolled her eyes in frustration.

Mercifully, the elevator arrived at that moment and the two boarded with 5 other people. In such a close space with so many others, Clark was sure that Lois wouldn't start again with the 'conspiracy' notion.

He was wrong.

"They haven't returned my call yet," she said like a spoiled child, again not looking at him.

For a moment, he almost asked "who?" in a light-hearted joking fashion. He thankfully caught himself in time. He was considering how to respond when she turned to him expectantly.

"I mean, _hello-oh!"_ she sang holding up her hands. "What are they waiting for? Are they _afraid _of something? They're afraid I'm uncovering their _scam!_ That's what it is. I'm _on to them_ and they're probably up there – right now- thinking of ways to…"

"Lois," Clark said soothingly, putting his massive hand on her delicate shoulder, "calm down."

He managed to deflect the icy glare she shot him. Three months ago, it would have shut him up on the spot.

"It took more than _a day_ for them to get back to me when I requested an interview," he continued logically. "You called them just a couple hours ago. I'll bet you hear from them tomorrow."

Crossing her arms in defiance, she unfortunately had to admit he had a point. She was simply going to have to wait. She didn't have to _like_ it, but she was going to have to none-the-less.

The elevator doors eventually opened and the occupants filed out and marched off in random directions. Clark and Lois headed for the front door together.

"So that gives me just enough time," Clark said leaning closer to her ear, "to take you out for a couple drinks and then back to my place…"

She looked up at him in amused bewilderment.

"… so we can talk about how we're going to go about this story."

Lois smiled as she turned her head forward again. For a moment, she wasn't sure what to think. Clark Kent just flirted with her… in _public_. That little fact warmed her up inside.

She walked across the marble floor and out the rotating door of the lobby, her mind miraculously (albeit temporarily) shifted from unscrupulous Justice League plots to how much has changed between Clark and her. And how much Clark, himself, had changed – for the better, in her opinion. She felt a streak of accomplishment in that - believing that _she_ had been the one to affect the improvements.

Right behind her, wearing just as warm of a smile was her… _boyfriend?_ His smile was for very similar reasons; the warm fuzzy inside at the realization that he was becoming an accomplished flirt and that Lois had actually _allowed_ it to happen without any form of objection. Where his sincerity ended, however, was with the knowledge that he had _resorted_ to flirting in order to try and take her mind off the whole Superman thing.

Backwards. But it worked.

On the busy sidewalks outside the Daily Planet building, they exchanged some affectionate pleasantries and a soft embrace and parted ways. They'd meet again later at a local pub, then adjourn to Clark's apartment a short walk away. He should have just enough time before then to contact the League.

* * *

Lex Luthor's appointments for the day had been canceled. In fact, he had Mercy reschedule or scrub all appointments for the next day as well. He had some work to do. More importantly, he had a lot of thinking to do. 

After the morning's events, he had finally come around to believing that Superman's wellbeing was questionable at least. What's more, he also believed that the Justice League was taking steps to cover it up. This only confirmed what he had been advocating for years; The Justice League was not an organization to be trusted. _Nobody_ with that much power can be trusted – especially if they hadn't _earned _it or been endowed by the people.

That was why he had even begun designing his weapon all those months ago… the Achilles device as he called it, for it preyed on Superman's Achilles heel; Kryptonite. He believed that Superman was the keystone to the organization. He calculated that, without their most powerful and arguably most noble member, the League would falter, maybe even fall. Once that happened it would only be a matter of time before complete dismantling. And after that, anything would be possible… for Lex Luthor, at least.

Lex was not prepared to make his plans a joint effort. He had considered and even attempted to partner up with other like-minded individuals in the past, but only because they had a common goal; eliminate the Justice League. He never enjoyed the associations. Mostly, he was forced to team up with common criminals and/or psychopaths… necessary evils he had to endure in order to accomplish his own lofty goals. He had no illusions or delusions of glory in the act of eradicating the League itself. He was already as wealthy as they come and his fame (or infamy, as it were) was already established. He didn't steal for riches. He wasn't trying to destroy The League for his reputation's sake. The Justice League's demise wasn't his ultimate goal, just one step along the way.

No, his goals are much, much loftier. And he had justified in his own magnificent mind decades ago, that the sad truth was that a few perfect eggs must be broken in order to make the perfect omelet. His problem with the Justice League (or any other group or individual, for that matter) was that they refused to let him break those precious eggs, no matter how promising an omelet he was preparing. The greater good, was being subverted for the sake of those few eggs, in his mind. His plans for the world were so grand, so righteous, that the people would forgive him the sin of breaking a few measly eggs, he knew without a doubt. There was nobody on the planet (native or alien) that could reserve the right to keep him from making the world a more perfect place.

Destroy the Justice League? Yes, Lex Luthor had considered that. Did he actually want to _kill_ the members? Perhaps… if necessary. Besides, what had any of them done to deserve the power they wielded? Where were the buckets of blood, sweat and tears as testimony to their devotion? Their power was unfairly gained, in his mind. Their will was dispensed too discriminately for his tastes. They were held accountable to nobody for their actions, where as every other person in the world had a higher power; be it a person, a contract, a deity or a constitution to answer to. These clowns in funny costumes _claimed_ to uphold what they referred to as "justice", but who's definition of "justice" were they using? Who had the authority to make them accountable? Who held them in check?

He did. Because nobody else could, or even dared. So eliminating their little club was a priority for those two reasons; they were in his way and they didn't deserve to continue on without accountability.

Such was his justification. His goal of undermining their power was for the greater good of the people. In short, he was protecting the world from super-powered self-appointed outcasts as well as eliminating the obstacles that kept him from fulfilling his dream, his destiny. The people of the world deserved Lex Luthor and all his visions and the Justice League has no right to deny them that.

The Achilles device was supposed to eliminate Superman's power, by stripping him of it, or killing him if necessary. The rest of the League would eventually find themselves neutralized with similar prejudice. However, his timetable and his methods had been interrupted… usurped, really. As wary as Lex was of his new "ally", he had to admit that these alterations had been bearing fruit that was eerily similar to what he craved. For that, he was content to maintain the alliance.

However, just like all forms of business, Lex insists on having many irons in the fire. He didn't know how tight this alliance was, nor was he comfortable placing any reliance on the good intentions of his new 'partner'. Just because their goals seem to parallel to this point, doesn't mean they won't go askew in the future. Lex was going to keep his relationship tense and give "Mr. X" enough rope to either accomplish goals that pleased him, or hang himself with.

Now that he was able to consider plans with Superman not in the way, he had a chance to test Mr. X and his intentions. Ever the master manipulator, Lex had been dropping hints, mentioning names and technologies, asking simple but significant questions of his guest to gauge his mindset. The answers, the body language, the mannerisms… it all pointed towards something that was still somewhat elusive; Lex did not know what Mr. X was really up to. He was growing certain that their long-term goals didn't match. How much so was still the question.

"…I beg your pardon," Lex said offhandedly, "did you say earlier that you wanted Superman's _body_?"

"Yes, I did."

_Why? No doubt you have something up your sleeve… _

"Well," Lex said obediently, as if contemplating a away to actually accomplish this task, "I guess it would be a good idea… that way we could make sure that his _friends_ don't find a way to restore his powers…"

"Precisely."

_Damn._

Those short answers were grating on Lex's thin nerves. He knew that the request had nothing to do with the Justice League re-powering Superman. But his verbal thrust had been parried. He wasn't getting anywhere in the roundabout way. This adversary/ally was as clever as they come…

_Maybe the direct approach…_

"What if he's _not_ dead?" he asked.

_Thrust. _

"We will still acquire his body, alive or dead."

_Parry._

"And what do you plan on doing with it… or _him_ if he's still alive?" Lex turned in his chair and leaned his arms on his desk.

"In either case, I will get what I need."

_Now we're getting somewhere!_

Lex's expression showed none of his contemplation, but his mind was churning out inhuman calculations.

_He needs the _body_ itself, not the man. It must have something to do with Kryptonian physiology… maybe Kryptonian DNA. Knowledge? No, then he would want the alien _alive._ It could be chemistry… But most likely it has to do with physical power… something he can derive from Superman's body…_

Lex continued his train of analysis as he swiveled his chair back towards the panoramic view of Metropolis outside his office window. His expression was as light and unassuming as ever. He even made a disarming comment about the weather for good measure. Anything to keep the extreme intellect of his guest from knowing that he was being investigated.

But Lex had discovered the truth… at least one possible, likely truth: Power. Specifically, physical power.

_He fancies himself an intellectual god… he wants the body of a god to go with it! Oh, that's all I need; another megalomaniac… and with Superman's body… no, Superman's powers no less!_

* * *

Flash zipped down the corridor and retrieved two chairs back to the Monitor Womb for his colleagues. Five of them had gathered there informally to continue their discussions about the morning's events and the implications of Batman's latest actions. A few seconds later and he had a bowl full of corn chips for himself and a few other snacks for everybody else. He brushed off J'onn's admonishment about having food in the Womb. 

"I still don't know how I feel about it," Hawkgirl admitted. "He deliberately kept information from the rest of us about his abilities… that's pretty serious."

"When you look at it like that," Lantern replied, "you have a point. But technically, he didn't _lie_ about anything."

"Wouldn't you consider withholding evidence lying?"

"Only if it was…" John stopped and sighed in frustration. He and Shayera had been holding their own personal argument for the entertainment of the others for too long. "Look, he never had powers before. He never volunteered to function within the League as a meta. He isn't even a full-time member. His capacity has always been basically research and planning and _he's still doing that._ If you ask me, his role hasn't changed, he's still willing and capable of providing the same services as he _always_ has."

"No, you're wrong," Shayera called out rudely. "He now has an _obligation_ to help out in _any_ way he can. And if that means that he uses his powers, then he does! He's no longer has the luxury of working as a supporting member… as a… a _bystander_… he should be made full-time like the rest of us!"

The debate raged on, mostly between Hawkgirl and Green Lantern, but the others offered their opinions as well. There was one point they all agreed upon; for this one time at least, Batman had stepped up when needed and saved the day. All of them were impressed by his performance and even more so by the clever way he was able to perpetuate Superman's presence within the League. They even expressed to each other that they were somewhat comfortable with him possessing such powers as they all felt that he could be trusted to handle them. J'onn and Diana went so far as to say that he may never use them again except for the most dire emergencies – like with the train.

That's where the common angles ended. Should Batman be strongly encouraged (or _forced_ as Shayera believed) to take on a full-time position within the League now? If so, would they be able to call upon his powers on a regular basis? Would he be comfortable using them regularly? Everybody had their own answers and opinions on these issues, and while some were hotly debated, all were perfectly valid.

It wasn't long before J'onn dropped the big question that nobody had even been considering; What will happen when a device is developed to reverse the affects of the original weapon and return Batman and Superman to normal? All agreed that both men did, indeed want such a resolution, but did the League have the right to, or even an _obligation_ to serve a greater form of justice by trying to convince Batman to actually _keep his powers_?

Flash had mentioned half-jokingly that he should adopt a new super-hero identity, that way 'Batman' can stay 'Batman', and the League could benefit from the firepower of an all-new member.

"He can even make a new costume," he argued. "One that's just as black and creepy as his batsy-suit…"

All his idea earned him was 4 sets of rolling eyes. Fortunately for him, an alert sounded from across the room.

"It's a high-priority message," Diana announced after reading the monitor. She hit a few commands and the message played on the overhead speakers.

"Hello Justice League…"

Five collective jaws dropped as Lois Lane's challenge rang throughout the room. Scowls formed, sighs were heaved, heads were slowly wagged, but not a word was said. For a few, long, stressed seconds, the negative atmosphere was infectious.

"We better call Clark," Diana tried.

John had a more dire suggestion.

"We better call Batman."

* * *

"When you see him," Alfred said as Bruce emerged from his shower, "please relay to Superman my admiration for a job well done." 

Bruce turned with a cocked eyebrow to meet Alfred's haughty, but discrete grin.

"I owe Clark a new set of boots," Bruce replied, toweling off his hair.

Alfred suppressed a chuckle and presented his employer with a glass of orange juice.

"Thanks."

Bruce finished drying off and donned a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He started brushing his teeth while Alfred revisited the planned events for the rest of the evening. There were society obligations to meet and photographers to tolerate, but steps had been taken to eliminate them from the equation. Tonight, the Bruce Wayne persona would take the night off and Bruce could simply enjoy a rare night of personal pleasure. Instead of rest, he had offered long ago to spend the evening with an indestructible piece of iron wrapped sensually with the form of his luscious Amazon soul mate. His offer had been properly and warmly accepted.

His mind was set on an old-fashioned night out. He had hired a classic movie house for an exclusive showing of 'Casablanca'. He had paid handsomely for security and privacy, similar to what he always arranged when he had to date other women that, for respectability's sake, shouldn't be seen with Bruce Wayne. He had secret entrances and exits secured to the penthouse suite atop the Gotham Excelsior hotel, where they would enjoy all the luxurious fare of a seven-course, five-star gourmet meal on the balcony overlooking his city. He didn't know what kind of wine or champagne she would prefer, or if she would even partake, so he had countless choices and vintages prepared, as well as alternatives. Finally, he had personally selected 40 minutes worth of fireworks to launch over Gotham Harbor, which could be seen from either their penthouse perch or the tranquil grounds of Wayne Manor, where he asked Alfred to prepare a cozy spot for them to just sit and enjoy each other's company.

Bruce Wayne has the process of courting women documented to a cookbook-like procedure. Sure, there were subtle distinctions that he incorporated in order to make each of his dates feel 'special', and he was an expert in thinking on the fly in order to make each date a night to remember. After all, he can schmooze like the best of them. That and the fact that he instantly has the advantage, simply because most of the starlets and models he favors are somewhat in awe with the fact that they're actually on a date with _THE_ Bruce Wayne. Entertainment has become a third job for him in so many, many ways.

But this time it was different. This time, the woman he was preparing for wasn't some flash in the Hollywood pan, or some flavor of the week. This time, she was worthy of every bit of attention he could spare. It wasn't just her unsurpassed poise, grace and beauty that inspired him. It wasn't her gentle nature in quiet moments, or her ferocity when in battle. It wasn't even her regal status, or the fact that she came from a mythical island and personally knew beings that he'd only read about in ancient texts. Those things were important, to be sure, but they weren't the reason that Bruce was spending every minute he could spare to plan for tonight. It was because she was his equal, in every way he could think of. And no other woman, no other _person_ could claim that title.

It was going to be virgin territory for both participants, when all things were considered. For Diana, it was the first date ever. For Bruce, it was a challenge to make sure that he provided the perfect accompaniment to a strong and independent spirit that still had reservations about chivalry and flattery and the subtle joys of modern luxuries. He had forced himself to consider the proprieties of such a courtship. How proper would it be to open the door for her? Her sense of equality called into question all he had perfected in dating, yet she was also willing to learn the ways of the world outside her home. In any event, he believed that her understanding of the honorable nature of his intentions would at least prevent any misconceptions. And he believed he had mentally prepared himself to show her such an evening, the memory of which she would always cherish.

Yes, tonight was designed to be the ultimate first date for a woman that had waited for centuries for such attention. The only problem was that the morning's events had laid Bruce into hibernation of untold duration and Batman had other plans.

Bruce was leaning over the sink with toothpaste dripping unflatteringly out of his mouth as Alfred confirmed that Excelsior security would have the top two floors roped off. The butler stopped mid-sentence when Bruce stood up and he caught his expression in the mirror. It was clear to the old gentleman that his charge was not paying attention… at least not the degree of attention that was due.

"Sir," he said with despair evident in his voice, "I take it by your demeanor that you're considering canceling this evening's events."

The lack if a response more or less confirmed Alfred's suspicions. The two men knew each other so well in so many ways; the facial clues, the body language, the sighs and huffs and each subtle nuance in a spoken word – or even unspoken words. And Alfred understood better than anyone the magnitude of Bruce's mission and how so many sources of potential happiness had been abandoned for its sake. That was why this particular evening with this particular woman was as important to him, as he though it should be even more so for Bruce. To see now that all the magnificent preparations would go to waste affected him to an unacceptable degree.

"Oh, sir!"

"After this morning," Bruce said after rinsing his mouth and replacing his toothbrush, "I have far too much to do. I can't spend time on a _date._"

The way he said that last word made the old man visibly flinch. This was much more that the run-of-the-mill Bruce Wayne _date_ and both men knew it. The fact that Bruce had already minimalized it in his own mind was exasperating. It also indicated that there was a certain amount of resolve in his mind and Alfred would have to either accept it or log yet another cunning and Homeric effort in order to force a shimmer of happiness and normalcy into his employer's dreary life. Fortunately, for Bruce's unwilling sake, for Diana's sake and for the sake of love and romance in general, Alfred was the perfect agent for such a mission.

"Very well," he sighed, much to Bruce's visible relief. "Shall I inform her highness, or would you like to."

That was one of Alfred's favorite moves; force him to make the choice. If Bruce were to ask Alfred to do his dirty work for him, it would effectively paint him as a coward, which would, in turn, shame him into bending to reason. If Bruce were to call the bluff and actually take on the responsibility, it would force him to face Diana himself with the unsavory choice. Either way, Alfred was forcing Bruce to choose some form of responsibility for his actions. A very fatherly technique.

"I'll call her," he said off-handedly, with a complete lack of concern in his voice. Alfred had a small hiccup of confidence at having his bluff called so unremarkably. There didn't seem to be any concern in Bruce's manner at all. Perhaps he was just growing as crafty as the old Englishman…

"Excellent," Alfred said with a measured touch of delight forced into his voice. "And, should I cancel all of the evening's preparations or simply postpone them? Although, I don't believe we will be able to recoup many of our deposits…"

"Don't bother," Bruce said with a simple shake of his head.

Normally, the challenge of keeping Bruce in line was something he appreciated; it meant that whatever lesson he was trying to teach Bruce was important indeed. This time, however, there was no sign that Bruce's mind could be swayed. If Alfred didn't feel so confident that he knew Bruce inside and out, he could have testified that there was no concern in his eyes about the loss of the evening's magical promises.

He was at a loss. Something was not right. He kept asking all the right questions and Bruce kept giving completely foreign answers.

Try as he might, Alfred couldn't read any of the signs that Bruce usually unwittingly sent him when confrontations like these were afoot. For a moment, this Bruce was a completely different man and Alfred was at a loss for what to think or how to handle him. The hollow void of defeat sank into his chest and he stared blankly at the younger man that looked like Bruce but didn't seem to be him.

His role of surrogate father and conscience now felt deflated and the lonely old man fell instinctively back upon his decades of butlerly service. He suddenly felt like so much furniture in the room.

Like a servant.

Gone, it seemed, was any of the warmth and respect the two had always shared, even in the hardest of times. Gone, it seemed, was the love in his charge's voice.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" he weakly asked not knowing what to expect.

Bruce, now finished with his grooming, was pulling a hooded sweatshirt over his head and making towards the door. He stole a glance at Alfred as he responded in the negative to his question. When he caught the unrecognizable expression on his distinguished face, he paused with concern.

"Alfred, are you…" he started with sympathy, then changed his tone to demand. "What's wrong?"

No response.

"I can't believe," he continued with a forced chuckle, "you'd be that upset about me having to break a date!"

"I wouldn't, sir," Alfred finally spoke, "if this had been just _any_ date. But it isn't. I had _assumed_ that such an evening with _the princess_ would be…"

"You're right," Bruce smiled, "This evening _was_ going to be special, but the timing is off, that's all."

Alfred looked into the eyes and the face and the smile that he'd known for so long and saw the man he'd raised, but not the soul he'd help form.

"If you say so, sir."

"I say so," Bruce continued smiling. "And I promise that I'll make it up to her… it may take a while, but I will! And when we finally _do_ get a chance to…"

His pledge was interrupted by the serious alert of a hidden communicator. Bruce's face dropped into the stoic Batman front as he turned and answered.

Alfred took the moment to contemplate what had just transpired between himself and Bruce. He internally questioned if there was anything to concern himself with in the spirit of what he just experienced or if it was all just an illusion in his tired old head, tainted by the disappointment of Bruce's happiness postponed because of the requirements of some other man in a funny black costume.

Was there something different about Bruce? Was he imagining the changes? The clues, if they even existed, were so subtle, so restrained that his weary mind may have been mistaken. As Batman communicated in unshakable sternness with whomever was on the other end, Alfred was able to convince himself to write it all off as misperceptions brought on by his frustration in the cancellations. He had been so hopeful for the evening… However, he resolved that he was making something out of nothing. Whatever it was, he thought as he watched and listened, it was gone now.

"I have to go," Bruce said when the transmission was over.

Bruce strode silently to the study and Alfred followed half a pace behind. Before opening the secret entrance to the Batcave, he finally spoke.

"I guess we'll both be spared the opportunity of upsetting an Amazon," Bruce announced as light-heartedly as he could. "Wonder Woman has to report up there as well."

He grew a genuine smile for Alfred as the grandfather clock swung open.

"We'll get another chance!" he promised before ducking into the shadows.

Alfred returned the smile and nodded. When the clock slid back into place and the mechanical sounds of the locks engaging finally ceased, the proper English gentleman poured himself a proper gin and tonic.

* * *

AN: Again, I'd like to say 'sorry' for taking so long to get this chapter out!

AN: As always, thanks a whole heap to all you readers out there and extra special thanks to those that review! I always try to reply to my reviewers, but if I can't do it directly, I try to put a little something at the end of subsequent chapters... like these:

To Anon.:  
I'm not an English major. I basically write like I hear it in my head & therefore, my tense and style would probably earn me a C- at best in any 10th grade Literature class. Sorry if that distracts from the story or makes it harder to understand! Also, I somewhat agree with what you said about Lois not going off the deep end unless she was overly emotional, but that's kinda what I wanted to show... she WAS overly emotional - remember, she was at the freight yard and got hurt in the explosion. That should be enough to make a person a little excited. If I didn't make that clear, I guess I didn't write the chapter well enough. Hope you enjoyed in any way! Thanks for the review!

To Tony:  
Will Lois figure out Clark's secret or will he tell her? How does Bruce _really_ feel about Clark's absense? The others? Excellent questions. All will be revealed in time. Of course, I don't want to let out anything now that the story will cover later... if you have any questions about what has already been written, then that's a different thing. You can't ask for the ending before it's been released! Thanks for reviewing!


	13. Chapter 13: Exposure

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me.

AN: I guess you could consider this AU. I'm borrowing from the cartoon, but also some stuff from comics, too. And I'm making a few things up as I go…

* * *

Chapter 13: Exposure 

Within minutes of being informed of Lois Lane's message, Batman was back aboard the Watchtower, storming his way down the corridor to the conference room. The others were already waiting for him and the speaker phone was ringing in preparation for a conference call with Clark Kent. He answered as the doors opened to admit the Dark Knight into the room.

Batman didn't take a seat.

"I was just about to call you," Clark's voice sounded. He didn't even bother to say 'hello.'

"So you know what has happened?" GL asked.

"I know that Lois left a message about Superman, yes," Clark admitted. "Was there something else I should know?"

Silence.

"Clark," Diana started with as friendly of a tone as she could muster, "what does Lois know?"

Clark ran through the same list of accusations that Lois had outlined for him earlier that day. As each topic was laid out, cursory comments were made and notes were taken. The unfortunate truth was that each point was a fact and everybody had to admit that Lois had done an impressive job of piecing it all together.

"So what's the plan?" Flash finally asked. "How do we handle this? I mean, if we deny the facts, we're guilty of fraud and if we try to keep her from writing what she knows… doesn't that pretty much amount to censorship?"

The guilty looks around the table and the silence on the speaker were consent enough to that question. A couple more clarification questions were asked and Clark did the best he could to answer with fact or to at least indicate what he _thought_ was true. It hadn't occurred to anybody that Batman had been silent up to that point.

"I was thinking," Clark offered, "that perhaps we could invite her up to the Watchtower. I could be there ahead of time and she could see all seven of us at once… that could convince her that…"

It was only a couple of words, but they rang like church bells in Batman's head; '_we_ could invite…', '_all seven_ _of us…'_ Batman's patience was threadbare and poor Clark was unintentionally ripping at the last of it.

Ever since the morning, Batman had been unapproachable. After the cleanup at the Metropolis Freight Yard, he managed to escape back to his monitor duty aboard the Watchtower unseen. Flash had tried to compliment him on his heroics and he got a scolding for it – some artificially inflated accusation of grand standing for the press and not checking specific details about the train. J'onn was admonished for not controlling his instinctive recoil from the flames as well as not detecting the detonation devices on the engines.

There were other issues in his head as well. Namely; he had heard many of the comments made by his colleagues about his actions and behavior of late – comments that they hadn't intended for his ears, but were heard none-the-less. He didn't consider it spying, since he justified that anything said in the cafeteria was meant for public knowledge anyway – even though he was sitting isolated on watch in the Monitor Womb at the time and using his new powers to listen.

Top it all off with Alfred's attempt to shame him into keeping his date with Diana – another distraction that he didn't need. It all added up to a short-tempered eccentric billionaire with issues. His temper seemed to be so short lately, so little patience…

The whole situation was growing more and more intolerable by the hour and it was tearing at him from all angles. Having to keep up the farce about Superman was verging on ridiculous. The fact that he had to come in and basically save Superman _again_ (or his image at least) was ticking him off to no end. How many times had that happened? Now, Clark was innocently enough trying to help diffuse the situation, trying to simply be a contributing member of the team and he was about to receive an earful for his efforts.

"Convince her that _WHAT_?!" Batman barked. "That you're not reduced to peddling stories for your girlfriend and the rest of us are not forced to cover up the fact?!"

"Batman!" Diana shot at him as her shocked expression matched that of the others.

Clark's silence was deafening.

Everybody involved was intimate with Batman's legendary wrath and limited commodity of patience. It was no secret that he didn't enjoy the charade they had been perpetuating, but had grudgingly agreed that it was the best course of action. Occasional snaps and outbursts weren't unheard of either, but on those rare occasions, there was logic and reason behind his verbal affronts. He had a method to his madness, so to speak. This was different.

This outburst, this attack… it wasn't driven by offended professionalism or some other such logical urgency. No, it was personal in nature. While nobody would argue that the situation wasn't delicate, only Batman had gone over the line and actually tried to pin blame on Clark with his lashings.

With Wonder Woman calling him on it, he had almost unleashed on her as well. There was a boiling pot of lead churning in his stomach and the muscles in his face and neck were visibly tense. His teeth and fists were clenched and he drew an enormous breath in through his nose as he sat upright to almost inhuman rigidity. The seconds crawled past as all eyes locked on him with mixtures of worry, fear and (universally) much disapproval.

Fortunately for all involved, their collective patience paid off. As they stared at their colleague, the Dark Knight melted into a more recognizable presence. He seemed to calm himself. His expressionless eye lenses betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts, yet he seemed more in control of himself, almost regretful for his flare-up, though nobody would actually expect an apology.

"This is getting us nowhere," he stated calmly in his trademark baritone. "Ideas?"

He looked around the table, noting all the faces and their nature as his eyes panned.

"I like Clark's idea," Hawkgirl said, breaking the silence.

"You mean," Flash added, trying to aid the climbing mood, "invite Ms. Lane up here to see that we're one big, happy family?"

"Yeah."

"What if she wants proof that Superman is still… well… Superman?"

"I thought about that," Clark's voice rang out. "In fact, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to be in the room for the rest of this meeting…"

"One moment, please," J'onn requested as he entered commands at his console. A few moments later, the conference room doors parted and Clark walked in. He stopped cold in his tracks when he saw that Batman was sitting in the center chair, the one that was normally reserved for Superman. Until that moment, nobody had thought a thing about it.

* * *

"I'm going to tell Lois the truth." 

"About what?"

Wally's cluelessness struck again. Only Hawkgirl was guilty of rolling her eyes, the others still had their stares locked solidly on Clark.

"About _me,_ Flash."

"Ooohhhh…. Wait… What?!" Flash sat upright. "You can't do that! Can he?"

He turned to look at Lantern, who's expression was as hard as granite. Nobody answered his question.

"Believe me," Clark continued soberly, "it isn't my first choice, but if she pushes the issue… if she demands proof that Superman is alive and well… I think she just may understand how important it is that we keep up this act until 'Mastermind' is uncovered."

Everybody's head turned as more of the explanation was laid out. The logic was sound. They didn't like the plan, but they couldn't deny that it may be necessary. Nobody made eye contact with Clark except Batman. While there was no arguing that they had to do _something_ to appease Lois before she took steps that could expose the League in their cover up, this drastic of a plan was never considered. Each member was dealing internally with their own mixture of feelings, ranging from vulnerability to betrayal, from guilt to disbelief. As an individual, Clark had every right to expose his true identity to whomever he pleased. If that exposure put the League at risk, then it would be a foolish and irresponsible choice, but his none-the-less. They all recognized, one-by-one, that they had no right to keep him from taking that step, all they could do was react in the way that served the greater good.

"Do you think that is wise?" Wonder Woman asked as diplomatically as possible, wanting not to sound biased for or against her friend.

"I think it's a good idea," Batman offered to the surprise of all. "In fact, we shouldn't even try to deceive her any more. She's getting too close. She thinks she has the upper hand on us, it's time we dropped her down a notch."

Clark's expression didn't hide his disapproval of such language about Lois. Wonder Woman shot him a confused look and the others sat slightly bewildered at his meaning. Was he being belligerent or just typically Bat-cynical?

"What do you mean?" Clark asked reservedly, trying hard to give his friend the benefit of doubt.

"I mean that she has a motivated personality," Batman said coolly. "When she smells blood, she goes after it. She dropped a bomb on us & she's coming up here to see what she uncovered. We'll simply drop a bomb on her…"

"…and take her by surprise," GL added, understanding the tactic.

"Exactly."

"But what about the aftermath?" Hawkgirl asked. "How will she respond to the news? There's a possibility that she could expose Clark _and_ release a write up about out situation."

"I don't think she will," Clark said confidently. "I know Lois. As much as her integrity drives her to write about the truth, she also understands when discretion is required…"

There was a far away look in Clark's eyes and a slight smile on his face as he finished speaking. It didn't go unnoticed.

"And…" Hawkgirl asked, growing a slight grin of her own.

Clark sighed a happy sigh.

"… and she and I have been… _dating_…"

He paused as his blushing grin grew. Flash and Lantern made a couple of sophomoric sounds and Wonder Woman bloomed into a smile of her own.

"…so I think that it will be even more personal to her," Clark continued, "finding out that she's actually dating Superman…"

The only face not in an all-out grin or chuckling was Batman's, and he even had a trace of a smirk. The levity in the room was a good mood lifter all-around. It raised the group optimism about the whole situation. Perhaps this could turn out to be a good thing in the end.

"So," Flash zipped over to stand next to Clark and put his hand on his massive shoulder, "how do you wanna do it?"

* * *

Lex heard the squeak of a wheelchair outside his office door. Mercy had informed him of his visitors, but she was unable to convince them to wait until he had given the approval for their admittance. No matter, Lex was always prepared for unexpected or even unwanted guests… 

_For a man who considers himself to be the ULTIMATE of human intelligence, you'd think he would be smart enough to use a little WD-40._

He kept his expression pleasant despite the growing distrust he was fostering for his ally-of-necessity. However, since a new dimension was about to be added to the situation, in the form of a new accomplice, he was not going to make any waves until all the waters had been tested. The heavy wooden doors automatically swung open and Lex's new 'business partner' rolled in alone.

"Hello, Lex."

"Greetings, Doctor." Lex replied diplomatically. "I was under the impression that you had brought an associate with you."

"I did," replied the visitor, adjusting his white coat. "But before I bring him in, I wanted to have a brief discussion..."

The tone of voice caught Lex's ear like an air horn. Renegotiation? Not on his list of favorite business evolutions – not if somebody else initiated it at least. And in this delicate balance of an agreement, he had grown very wary of what he was compromising and how closely his benefits outweighed his costs. Too many alterations to this association could quickly grow counter productive.

But what was Lex to do? From the day he was contacted by this mysterious stranger, he had been struggling to keep up. Always the one to make others react, Lex had more often than not found himself adapting to an ever-changing situation. Despite his best efforts, Lex could not seem to find the upper hand.

First, he had absolutely no idea who this old man was nor where he came from. There was no recorded identification data to match the voice patterns, photographs or fingerprints that Lex's agents had managed to secure. For the longest time, he didn't even know the person's name. All he knew was that his ACCORD shipments had been hijacked and the morning after, he was contacted by a person that claimed to have been opposing Superman for longer than even he had.

When Lex had reluctantly agreed to meet this mystery man, this Mr. X as he had labeled him in his files (and also came right out and called him to his face) he found that there seemed to be no limit to his knowledge and intellect. Nor was there a limit to his hatred for the Man of Steel.

Through their infrequent conversations, Lex had pieced together that the balding old scientist had been cursed to his wheelchair after a serious battle with Superman. He had long-since been considered dead, supposedly killed by accident according to news clips and articles. But now he had infested Lex's life with twisting plots and indisputable knowledge of the deepest and darkest of his secrets. Until he found a way to gain the upper hand, Lex had little choice but to acquiesce to many unusual requests.

The first such request was for Lex to call the intruder "Ultra". He had outwardly laughed at the idea, thinking it was an old man's attempt at a joke.

_What kind of name is that? The Ultra Humanite? Ultra for short! Who _is_ this freak?_

"Why not 'Extreme'?" he mocked, "that seems to be the catch-word these days…"

When his jab garnished no laughs, Lex locked in his belief that he was truly dealing with a madman. A madman with unparalleled scientific knowledge about the human body, about Superman, and far too many other areas to be reasonable. To have that much knowledge, that much _power_, yet all in a withering body that was destined to fail before too long, made this person desperate, eccentric… unpredictable.

Another odd request was for a variety of medical equipment to be delivered to an abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of the city. There was precious little security there and Lex made sure that one of his most trusted agents was among the delivery boys. There was nobody present to receive the shipment, so they just unpacked all the equipment and left. When one of Lex's spies reported later that evening that all the equipment was gone and there was little evidence of who took it, then it was clear that this Mr. X, this 'Ultra' was somebody to be taken very seriously.

Now that Ultra had requested they pool their combined efforts in order to locate Superman's body (or the person that used to be Superman), Lex was growing very cautious indeed. He doubted that it could be done. For years he had tried to find out Superman's secrets – where did he go when not zipping around in gaudy red and blue tights? What did he do? Anything?

Who did he become when he wasn't saving the world? Did he actually try to lead a double life or did he simply hide somewhere? Lex didn't know, though he had spent more money than most third-world countries' GNP trying to find out. More than a few times he had tried to remove it from the agenda, but it was always at the back of his mind, gnawing at him. Not so much because it was tactically important, but because it was a secret that the mighty Lex Luthor couldn't crack. That simply would not do.

Ultra said he wanted to know. He said he needed the body. He convinced Lex of the importance of it and implied, rather than stated, the ramifications if they didn't get it. Lex Luthor doesn't respond nicely to threats, especially from people that he knew to be… _beneath_ him. The problem he was facing with this latest demand, this latest _challenge_ was; he couldn't produce any solid proof that Ultra _was_ beneath him. The only thing Lex had that Ultra didn't was money and maybe a few connections.

_I should just _kill _him right now…_

"What I propose is," the invalid across the desk said to a patronizing Lex, "we infiltrate their Watchtower and ascertain the whereabouts of the body."

Lex laughed out loud in spite of the icy glare he received.

"Do you have any idea," he forced between breaths, "how advanced their security is up there?"

"I know that any one of them is capable of coming and going as they please."

"I'm sure they can!" Lex continued with a wide grin, "But unfortunately for both you and I, we're not one of them, are we?"

"No, but I know somebody who is…"

Lex's smile slid into a look of interest as Ultra turned his head over his weak shoulder.

"Mr. Hagen," he called, "could you please join us?"

With that, one of the most stunning women Lex had ever laid eyes on sauntered into the room, dressed in a chic and intriguing dress with the most seductive look about her. Lex slowly rose to his feet to greet the visitor.

"Good morning," he said slack-jawed. "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that you were a man…"

The woman smiled knowingly as the balding scientist rolled his chair over towards the side of Lex's desk.

"He is," he responded to Lex's confusion. "Meet Mr. Matt Hagen, former Hollywood actor and…"

"…_Matt Hagen!"_ Lex interrupted. "I thought you were dead."

"… and miraculous survivor of a most peculiar circumstance."

Lex made no effort to hide his puzzlement as he turned from "Matt" to the old man in the wheelchair and back again.

"I don't understand…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the leggy woman before him liquefied into a shapeless brown mass of a being. The sights and sounds of the transformation caused Lex to take a step backwards out of reflex. The surprise and awe on his face was genuine.

"As you can see, Mr. Hagen, or _Clayface_ as he is more commonly known in Gotham, has a most unique gift."

As the words were spoken, the folds and ripples atop the creature that formed what very loosely passed for a face shifted into what could be described as disapproval.

"Although he still has yet to consider these abilities gifts…"

Lex sank into his chair, his eyes still locked on the blob of goo that stood on just the other side of his desk. As he did so, Clayface's expression seemed to grow more stern.

"He's doin' it too," the creature said as he leaned forward, one of his dangling appendages congealing into what looked like the business end of a mace.

"Mr. Luthor," came the calm voice from the man in the white coat smirking in his wheelchair, "it seems that our friend doesn't take kindly to rudeness. In other words, I wouldn't stare if I were you."

Lex snapped back into reality and turned towards his temporary ally. After taking a second to regain his composure, he turned politely back towards Clayface.

"Forgive me," he said tactfully, "I didn't mean to be rude. You are an extraordinary person…"

"…yeah, yeah," Hagen replied impatiently, "with extraordinary powers… I've heard it all before."

Lex shot Ultra a look.

"Lex," Ultra started, "Matthew is searching for… a cure to his condition. While others may view his abilities as something to cherish, he finds that nonconformity is more of a burden in his life."

"It hurts!" the brown blob spat. "I can look like anybody I want, but I gotta concentrate all the time, or I look like _this._ I can't do it! Concentrate the whole time… dealing with the pain… I've tried, believe me, I've tried… I can't keep concentrating all day long and…"

"What I've offered him," Ultra cut him off, "was my assurance that you and I would do everything in our power to help him if he helped us as well."

Lex's mind flew into overdrive with the possibilities.

_The things I could do with such a tool at my disposal…_

"… I have done extensive research…"

_So, he says he doesn't like the pain, he can't concentrate… yet he can be bought off with a simple promise of help…_

"… his condition derives from an overdose…"

_It wouldn't be very hard at all to buy this… person… to provide him with luxuries enough to convince him to keep his current condition… and work for _me.

"… searching for a cure, which I could find with your financial assistance…"

_No, Mr. Hagen, you'll do... exactly the way you are. Of course, if the little white lie of promising you a cure is all it takes…_

"Of _course_ we will," Lex smiled as reassuringly as he could. "My goodness, I can't even _begin_ to imagine how difficult it must be for you to… well… to continue on day after day… All I can say is; it is a testament to your courage and mental fortitude."

It was hard to read Clayface's expression, since there were none of the usual structures one is used to seeing on a human face. But there was no shift towards the offensive in his body language combined with his silence led Lex to believe that his little ruse was taken as the truth. Ultra, on the other hand, smiled warmly as he looked from Clayface to Lex and back, observing the whole performance with approval.

"I assume," Lex said, shifting into business mode as he turned to Ultra, "that you have a plan?"

"Yes."

* * *

"I gotta go, Chief!" Lois called as she made for the door without even waiting for Perry's reply. "Hey, Smallville! You coming?" 

"Be right with you!"

Clark and Lois headed for the elevator. It hadn't been 10 minutes since she had stepped out of the same one that morning. The first thing she did when she arrived at work was to check her messages and she found that the second one in her box was from Hawkgirl, inviting her to the Watchtower for an interview. Curiously, the message mentioned Clark Kent, since he had so recently been aboard, and offered for him to join them, if it wasn't a problem. Of course, he readily agreed.

The elevator opened and the two reporters stepped in. They rode alone towards the roof of the building. Lois, stroked down her skirt and checked her top. She fumbled for a compact out of her purse and checked her face.

"Nervous?"

"Hey," she snapped, "I interview Prime Ministers on a monthly basis, I think I can handle a couple of do-gooders in tights."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"Shut it."

She felt a little less self-conscious when Clark ran through the same routine, straightening his tie, patting down his hair, etc. She heard him take a deep breath and she took the opportunity to do the same.

They arrived at the top of the building to find Green Lantern waiting there. He introduced himself formally to Lois and re-acquainted himself to Clark. They quickly exchanged some pleasantries. She was not prepared for his impeccable presence and charisma. Without even demonstrating his abilities, it was clear that he was a man of the highest integrity. His physical presence alone would be intimidating, if not for the genuine smile on his face.

"You have a choice," he announced. "How would you like to board the Watchtower? Teleport or Javelin, or my ring could…"

"How did you go last time?" Lois asked looking at Clark.

"Me? I went…"

"We'll take the teleporter!" Lois smiled, her excitement building despite her efforts to remain professional.

"Very well," Lantern grinned. He put his hand to his ear and request 3 to teleport up.

Lois took a deep breath and grabbed Clark's hand. She gave it an excited squeeze and quickly released it when Green Lantern turned to them and nodded. She felt the adrenaline pumping out of her heart and through her limbs. She held her coat over her arm and her purse tightly against her body. Within seconds, mind was awash with a blinding blue-white light. It wasn't from outside, but inside her eyes that she saw it, as if the light came from within her own head. She had a hard time moving for a moment. The sensation of having her molecules disassembled didn't hurt what so ever, but her body tingled as if it were covered with champagne. There was a slight taste of pennies in her mouth and she felt like she was falling for just a split-second. The whole episode didn't take longer than a few heartbeats, but it felt like minutes before she was able to focus on Flash's smiling face in the teleporter room.

"Welcome aboard the Watchtower," he declared ceremoniously.

Green Lantern stepped off the pad as casually as if he were leaving an escalator, Lois had to take a few seconds to get her bearings straight.

She let out a low whistle as she shook her head clear. She looked up at Clark and he didn't seemed phased at all.

_Jerk. Make _me_ look like the only one here that can't handle having my body faxed into space!_

"This way, Ms. Lane," Lantern said sweeping his arm towards the door.

She shot a glance at Clark who seemed to be handling the situation with more composure than she would have thought. Even worse, he was handling it better than she was. As she walked through the door into the hallway, she decided it had to be because he had already been there. She inwardly was thankful for his calmness, however, because it helped her keep hers.

She stopped dead in her tracks as they passed by the picture window with the stunning view of Earth far below. Her awe was evident in her eyes. If she hadn't been affected by the wonders of being teleported to the Watchtower, then she was now. The realization that she was in space sunk into chest and her breathing grew short and shallow. She turned slowly and (for a few paces at least) she didn't seem to be so determined any more.

The technology of the Watchtower alone is staggering, let alone the remarkable beings that worked there or called it home. What wasn't so well known was how the aesthetics and layout of the facility were all carefully considered too. The spectacular vista that so impressed Lois Lane was not trivial. That window was placed on the corridor between the teleporter (and the Javelin docking bay) and the Conference Room. The view was intended to awe. In fact, any visitor would be subjected to an assault on their senses as they made their way through the station, such that they would have absolutely no doubt that they were walking through halls of power, amongst virtual gods.

The layout of the Conference Room was also well planned. The table, for example, was designed to be round. Like the Knights of the Round Table from King Arthur lore, it implied that all persons seated around it were equal in station to all others. However, having only 7 members, there was a lack of pure symmetry. This was also planned. As the table can reposition from a solid disk, to a ring, to a semi-circle (which it was for this meeting), the feel and impression of the room also shifted. When a guest walks through the doors of the Conference Room, the first person they see is Superman, flanked by 3 members on each side. That seat was designed to be the Seat of Power.

If Lois Lane hadn't fully recovered her determination by the time the twin doors swooshed open in front of her, it didn't show. She held her head high with dignity as she stopped and the doors quietly shut behind her, encapsulating her with 6 of the most powerful beings in the world. From her left to her right, each member rose in turn and formally introduced themselves.

"Greetings, Ms. Lane. I am J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter."

"I am Shayera Hol… Hawkgirl."

"Batman."

"Hello, Ms. Lane. I am Diana, Princess of Themyscera and also known as Wonder Woman."

"Green Lantern."

"Hi, I'm Flash… not _the _Flash."

Lois Lane, true to her reputation, showed no fear, even though her heart was pounding a mile a minute. She gritted her teeth behind her nervous smile when Green Lantern used his ring to pull up a chair for her, which she denied of course. It was one thing to see GL use his ring on Television, but to be in his presence as the glowing energy bent to his will in the most detailed way… it was very impressive. Not something the average reporter sees everyday.

She hadn't noticed very much how her hosts had offered no courtesies to Clark. They didn't greet him as they did her. They didn't offer him a seat. It was as if they were all focused on her and her alone.

After taking a second to look around the room she focused on the empty central chair and Superman's obvious absence. In a heartbeat, her mind raced through a myriad of possibilities.

The heroes took their seats and Hawkgirl spoke.

"I believe you requested some information about Superman. As I'm sure you know, there are security issues to consider, so some of your questions may not get answered to the detail you prefer."

_Was I right? Are they hiding something? Where _is_ he? Is he avoiding me because he might feel betrayed? Is he dead? So many questions…_

_Better start asking…_

"OK," Lois started after a nervous swallow. "Let's start with a big one: Where _is_ Superman?"

"Here," Superman's voice rang out.

Lois spun around and saw Clark looking right at her. The faintest look of expectation on her face instantly dissolved into disappointment. Then she witnessed something that shook her very core beliefs.

Before her very eyes, Clark seemed to grow a little taller, more statue-like. His shoulders looked as if they'd grown wider and his chest inflated impossibly large. The confusion on Lois's face was almost comical. He was still the same man as she had known and worked with and teased and, lately, dated. But right in front of her eyes, his entire quality started to radiate power, confidence. The set of his jaw implied authority. The softness of his eyes didn't recede, but changed to look more vigorous, more _alive._

She let out a confused snicker as her eyebrows knit tightly and her eyelids blinked uncontrollably. Such subtle details, such a dramatic change. He didn't seem like Clark anymore… he almost _did_ look like Superman.

She floundered for a question of clarification as to why he would try to pull such a joke, but she couldn't find her voice… and he didn't seem like he was joking. He simply looked at her for another second, then turned and marched around the table. Her perplexed eyes following his every step. With one sweep of his hand, his black hair tousled into a completely different style, furthering the metamorphosis.

He stopped behind the central chair and faced her once again. Waiting for her to again consider speaking, Clark Kent finally let Lois Lane know the truth. Reaching up with one hand, he paused, then swiftly removed his glasses.

That's when Lois's face fell into amazement. She watched, dumbfounded as he removed his suit jacket and laid it on the table. His blue eyes never moved, never blinked as he loosened and removed his tie. The last thing she saw before she fainted was Clark Kent ripping open his shirt and the bright red "S" leaping off his chest.

Had Flash not been ready, Lois would have hit the ground.

"I guess _that_ did it."

* * *

AN: You may be asking… Ultra Humanite? To which I respond… Darn Straight! Many thought it was Brainiac or Grodd. There were even a few Darkseid theories out there. But hear me out; Darkseid wouldn't need Luthor, and even if he did, he wouldn't make _deals_ with him – puny human! Grodd, I used him in my first fic… Brainiac, while not so overboard as Darkseid, and much more subtle in his ways, I ruled him out because I was much more intrigued with the comic book history of the Ultra Humanite that I recently read (I just wish they would have given him a _real_ name!) He was the anti-Superman, a withering body with a brilliant, twisted mind trapped inside. He was the balding baddie before Lex came around. A real, old-fashioned, mad scientist kind of guy. I can dig that. 

AN: I haven't been updating as frequently as I like, I'm sorry about that. I _will_ finish it, however. That's one of my biggest gripes about Fan Fic stories… people that start these great and awesome tales and drop them before they finish! I don't want to be one of those statistics. I hope that those of you that have enjoyed the story so far like where I take it. You have probably already felt the shift in the mood, it will continue to shift.

AN: As always, thanks, thanks and thanks again to all of you that read and review. If you haven't penned your own stories, then you may not be aware of how a quick note from a reader can motivate an author. I'm willing to bet that there may be some readers that have something negative to say about the story. By all means, drop me a line – if you don't want to post it as a review, my email is in my profile! I really want to hear from everybody that has a solid opinion on it. I'm an amature after all and will only benefit from constructive criticism!

AN: I always try to answer reviews. If you leave one anonymously, then I try to pin my replies at the end of the subsequent chapter… like this:

To Tony:  
I try to drop at least one line or two of explanation in the story if I feel that there may be some confusion on some topic, or if I'm trying to set the scene up for something important. If I'm not clear, by all means, ask away! Now, as to why Clark wouldn't try to reason with Lois about the logic of the JL hiding Superman's absence… I actually thought about it, but I think that it is important for Clark to look absolutely clueless about the inner workings of the JL – it helps to perpetuate his secret. I would even go so far as to say that he should feign indifference to completely keep people off his scent. Now, why did Batman get invisibility instead of flight? I figured that the effects wouldn't necessarily be equal and opposite, y'know? Strength, speed, super breath, super hearing… they're all just enhanced versions of normal HUMAN abilities… Flight, super-cooled breath, x-ray and heat vision… those are not. So, I thought that I'd start with the basics & add one more cool ability. Notice that he had to _concentrate really hard_ to make it happen. I kinda envisioned it like a mind-over-matter kind of thing… and who better to apply his mind than Batman? To give him ALL of Supes' powers would just be to easy! Thanks for the review! 


	14. Chapter 14: Shades of Betrayal

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me. Besides, it's AU... I can do anything I want ;)

* * *

Chapter 14: Shades of Betrayal 

"I don't know what pisses me off more… the fact that you've been _lying_ to me all this time or the fact that I was so _bloody stupid_ not to see it!"

Clark didn't respond, though he could have. Maybe even _should_ have. He could have pointed out how he never lied about his dual identity… he never actually said "I'm _not_ Superman." He simply withheld evidence. And as Superman, he pretended to not know Clark Kent very well. And as Clark, he pretended to be indifferent about Superman. But he technically never _lied_ about it.

He also wanted to give her a verbal rebuke for her self-deprecation, but he didn't do that either. No, he let her have her say before he even tried to make it all better.

He should have expected this attitude from her. She always held herself to such high standards... He should have expected this kind of response to his little surprise, and in a way he did. The magnitude of the news would be enough of a shock to anybody, but to _her_… he knew she could have a somewhat violent reaction. How much so and the true nature of her reaction was always something he pondered. But he was certain it would pass. It would just take a moment for her to let off a little steam fist.

For a long, long time, Clark had contemplated how it would go; telling Lois Lane that he was Superman in disguise… or Superman was him in disguise (sometimes he really didn't know which was more true). He would daydream about how he would spring it on her. He would fantasize about her reaction and the range of her emotions, from anger and rejection to amazement and wonder. He worried about how it may affect their relationship – and did so frequently over the past few weeks - ever since their relationship had taken a more intimate course. It must have been the romantic in him that always finished the dreams with a happy ending. Now the moment had come and gone and he won't ever be able to bring things back to what they were just ten minutes ago. So far, there was no happy ending.

"Don't look at me!" she snapped, her eyes cold and wild.

Clark sighed.

The others had left the conference room the moment she fainted. Flash was the last to leave after he helped Clark place her in a comfortable chair. Diana had smiled at him and Lantern gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. They all seemed pleased that they were able to help him take this step. Even Batman gave him a knowing nod before he briskly led the group in their exit.

Clark gently revived Lois and patiently waited for her to regain her senses. As he did, he steeled himself for whatever reaction she would unleash on him. He admitted internally that the cooperation of the rest of the League… his friends… had helped embolden him for this momentous choice. The whole incident was now over, yet it felt like things were only just beginning.

"How _dare_ you?!" she scolded as he averted his eyes. "Who do you think you are?"

"Lois, I…"

"Don't!" she stopped him. "I don't want to hear it! You… _deceitful… lying… AARGHH!"_

She turned her head with a growl and launched out of her chair, her burst of anger completing the recovery from her faint. She headed for the doors, but stopped and banged a frustrated fist on them when they failed to open. Knowing that he had locked her in, she whirled around to face him with a thousand daggers in her eyes.

"Let. Me. Out."

He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He had told the others that she would be upset for a few seconds, but it wouldn't take long before she would calm down. Collectively, they didn't seem to believe him. Green Lantern was the first to agree with Batman's suggestion to lock her in until she was reasonable. Clark testified that it wouldn't be necessary. Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl both seemed to have a lot of opinion on the subject, but neither one said a word. J'onn looked amused and Flash asked him how many girlfriends he'd had before.

"I will," he promised, "when you've calmed down and we discuss this like adults."

"Adults?!" she screamed. "Do _adults_ run around in blue tights behind the backs of their closest friends? Do _adults_ live double lives and lie to their… to the ones around them?"

'_Everybody here does but you,'_ he thought, but didn't say.

"Don't you talk to _me_ about _adults_…"

"That's enough," Superman demanded in his trademark voice of power, standing to his full height. If it took a little intimidation, then he would use it. Somehow, he would have his say, then everything would be alright.

For a split second, his demand had the desired affect; she shut her flapping lips enough to see that he was serious. She looked away from him with her teeth clenched behind her tightly-wrapped lips and drew in a deep breath through her flaring nostrils.

Clark saw that his moment had come to lay out his feelings on the table. This was the opening that he needed to smooth out the wrinkles and start the healing. He was about to begin when she ended the gap and continued on...

As she huffed out her breath, she locked her hard stare onto his eyes. Her rant now reigned in, she dropped a mind-numbing bomb in controlled, quiet, powerful words.

"Do you have _any_ idea how much I _hate_ you right now?"

_Hate?_

The word hit him like a bus. He was prepared for a variety of reactions; anger, distrust, betrayal, even acceptance and love. But _hate?_ Upon hearing that word his face fell into awe. There was no sign in her eyes of regret at using that word. Her stare didn't waiver. It was as if she meant every bit of what she said. And it sounded like the worst word in the world to hear.

There was no playfulness in it, no silly frustration, but genuine loathing. The raw energy of her anger made her look like another person, one that was absolutely unknown. He couldn't place her expression and couldn't read anything but that word... _hate._

Whatever he had hoped to accomplish today, it seemed that he had failed, utterly and completely.

He sighed in defeat. His eyes dropped, followed slowly by his shoulders, then his head. The realization that he may have made the biggest mistake in his life blasted into his chest like a cannonball. He felt the tears welling behind his eyes and his jaw clenched repeatedly as he tried one last time to look into her beautiful, livid face for any signs of affection or remorse at her outbursts. Upon seeing nothing to pin his hopes upon, he resigned himself to the possibility that he had just lost the love of his life.

"I will _always_ love _you_," he said before looking away and unlocking the door.

He didn't watch as she left.

* * *

"This data will show how that there exists similarities in all beings that poses what most people refer to as 'Super Powers' – even non-humans." 

Lex Luthor took the folder from his wheelchair bound companion. As they made their way down the polished floor of a long white hallway, the two had touched on technical terms about different devices they could add to their arsenal to aid their battle against the Justice League. Lex thumbed through the pages of information and pocketed the computer disks that he found.

"All of this data is about the physiology and biology of people… of targets," he observed.

"Of course," Ultra replied with a touch of condescension in his voice. "Biology is my specialty and I'm the ultimate authority pertaining to things of the body. I do have contacts with… shall we say… expertise in technology. However, your resources are superior to even my own…"

"…And you thought," Lex finished for him, "that _we_ could develop a device that could strip a person of super powers."

"I think that would be in both our interests."

Lex continued to flip page after page of data. The more he observed, the more he had to agree; there may, in fact, be a way to develop a device to strip powers from the Justice League. And if it would work on the heroes, then it would work on _anybody_ with abilities.

"Hagen," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes," Ultra sang brightly, obviously pleased that Lex was able to figure that out by himself, "such a device _would_ work on our friend, wouldn't it? And when we can show him that we are serious about our promise to help him, he'll be all the more eager to help us."

They drew closer to the large, black doors at the end of the hall and Lex's face showed none of the depth of his concentration. As the metal doors swung open and the two entered the laboratories at the end, he concluded that he finally had the last piece to the puzzle he had been assembling.

_Ah, Dr. Ultra, so wrapped up in the glory of your own intelligence…. how you underestimate mine!_

* * *

The lights and controls and settings would look absolutely unreal even if Lois wasn't seething and losing her struggle against the building tears. There was no way she would be able to figure out how to leave the Watchtower without _somebody's_ help. The situation only fueled her frustration more. 

"Will _somebody_ run this… _stupid_… _machine_ and get me the hell out of here?!"

She raged out a cry of wrath at the ceiling as she spun around on her heels, her fists straining in the air. Before she could finish her eruption, there was a rush of wind and she found herself facing the Scarlet Speedster.

The look of concern on his face was genuine and unexpectedly disarming. As furious as she was, and as eager as she was to let it out on _something_ or _someone_, she curiously didn't make Flash her target. It wasn't a conscious decision, she just didn't unload. He seemed too... _honest_. Anybody else wouldn't have been so lucky.

She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Ms. Lane…" he said, a little uneasily, "are you alright?"

"Do I _look_ alright?"

"Well, no, but…"

"But what?"

"You look better than The Big Guy does…" he said nodding over his shoulder.

She shot him a look of fury, but not for long. There was something about the way he referred to "The Big Guy" that displayed how much admiration this young man had for the object of her anger.

"Yeah, I just passed him on the way here," he continued as he started operating the controls on the teleport computer. "Whatever you two talked about really busted him up…"

"Good!"

Wally stopped his operations and looked at her earnestly.

"You don't _mean_ that… do you?"

"Just… get me the hell out of here, would you?"

"Yeah," he said turning back to the controls, "sure… back to the roof of the Daily Planet?"

"Yes."

He hit a few more controls.

"Gonna write your story now?"

"Oh, I'm gonna write one _helluva_ story!" she said looking at him sideways.

"You're not gonna _out _him... _are you_?" his question was one of genuine concern. His tone held no sense of coercion or intimidation, but sounded more like a teenager asking politely for permission.

"_I…_ am going to…"

"Are you?" he interrupted sadly, his youth and innocence forcing her to really think before she spoke next.

She didn't answer right away. His simple questions were so profound, they made her feel guilty, like she had been plotting a crime. For a moment, she considered what she was planning and how it may be a product of emotion, something petty. That realization gave her pause, but one inescapable truth insisted itself into her mind.

"He _lied_ to me… all this time and he _kept_ it from me."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Flash empathized. "I have my share of guilt about doing that too. It sucks keeping something like this a secret from people I care about. But it's not a good secret, y'know? It's more like a secret you don't _want_ anybody to know because it could change how they feel about you. It's one of those things that you can only share with somebody you _really_ trust because telling them is more of a burden than a reward. Y'know?"

She stared hard at his profile. Even with the mask, it was clear how concerned he was. For the first time since she fainted, Lois had a moment of clarity, though her anger hadn't completely evaporated.

He had a point.

"I mean," he continued humbly, "you're a reporter, it's your job to report stuff. If you think this is news, well… I'm sure you'll write a great story and get the front page or something. It just that… he was so _sure_ that telling you his secret was the right thing to do…"

She stood silently watching as he went on. He talked as he slowly entered settings and checked indications, his eyes never bent up to hers.

"We all though he was nuts, but when he talked about how you two were getting along so well… He made it sound like opening up to you was the next big thing he could do to show you that…"

She waited impatiently in his calm silence. Her arms crossed and she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Show me what?"

"That he loves you…" he looked at her.

It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"That he _trusts_ you…"

With each word of honesty Wally spoke, Lois's anger broke down a little more. The tide of her bitterness reluctantly receded and the truth of the situation started to take root; The man she pined for and the man that had been making her happy had miraculously joined into one. The most powerful being on earth humbled himself to her… _her!_ He had opened his inner-most secrets to her and laid his heart out for her bidding. And she was _mad_ about it. And she _hated_ him for it. And she _hurt_ him for it.

She turned her sad face toward the door.

"Y'know, we all have our secrets," Flash continued. "Everybody, not just us up here… For him to trust you enough to let you in on _that_ secret, to let you into his heart like that, well… I can't wait for the day when I find somebody I love enough to share my secret with."

Lois sighed in exasperation. Her head sank and she clamped a hand across her forehead. Blinking back different tears, her open mouth released a baited breath, then she swallowed hard. Whatever anger and frustration she harbored when she entered that room had dissolved and been replaced with confusion and regret.

"It's ready," Flash said politely. "If you step on the pad, I'll send you back now."

Hesitation.

Crossing her arms tightly across her stomach, her chin tucked to her chest, she stiffly raised a leg towards the teleport pad and leaned into the step. The second step was even more awkward. She grudgingly lifted one foot up and stopped it on the corner edge of the platform.

The pause was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

With a solitary tear glistening down her reddening cheek, she turned to Flash with a question in her eyes.

"Am I doing the right thing?" she asked quietly, emotionally.

"No," he sighed softly, shaking his head only a little.

Blinking rapidly, her face seemed to struggle between a smile and a frown. She heaved her shoulders and chest in an excited breath and dropped her purse and coat.

Flash thought he caught a glimpse of a smile on her face as she turned and sprinted out of the room. He heard her calling out Clark's name as she ran down the hall.

And Wally smiled.

* * *

The picture window didn't even register in her mind as she ran. 

"Clark!"

She ran on, down the curved hallway. The twin doors to the conference room had barely started to open before she wedged her way through them. The room was empty and dark. Her lonely shadow cast across the floor in front of her.

"_Superman!"_

No response.

She spun around and launched out into the hallway. She had no idea where she was heading, she just ran. And she called his name… both his names… She passed more doors and more hallways and her heavy lungs heaved her anxious breath.

Stopping at a corridor junction, she called again. Behind her she heard a door slide open. Spinning around wildly, she saw him as he stepped out of his room. There was concern on his face.

"Lois…?"

There wasn't enough time to ask her what was wrong. At first he couldn't read her expression, it was excited and raw and there was no sign of anything other than urgency about her. Worried, he took a step towards her, ever the hero. He barely had time to brace himself before she flew across the distance between them and into his arms.

"I _love_ you!" she confessed as she took his head in her hands and kissed him recklessly.

"I _love_ you, I love you, _I LOVE YOU!_" she repeated as she kissed his face all over.

Hesitantly, delicately, he held her trim hips in his giant hands. As much as he was enjoying her affections, his delight was still tainted with confusion. He simply bent down and allowed her to continue her frenzied, emotional attack until she had vented all that she had inside her.

She completed her finale and threw her arms around his neck, her smooth cheek nestled against his as she sighed out her admissions between heavy breaths.

"I'm so sorry, Clark!" she cried. "I'm so sorry for those things I said… I didn't mean it!"

She slowly pulled back and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. He could see the depth of her feelings in what he saw.

"And I was wrong," she continued, "in thinking that you had _kept_ something from me. You didn't. It was your secret to _reveal_… to _share._"

Her eyebrows raised with sincerity, she carefully chose her words to express her understanding.

"And I am…_honored_… that you chose _me…_ to share it with."

He straightened to his full height with an enormous breath as his understanding grew and his face alighted with a pleased grin. She leaned into him, resting her head against his massive chest and held him tightly. He closed his eyes softly and enjoyed the new sensation of holding Lois Lane, the love of his life, and now the other half of his soul.

* * *

That evening, in the Master Study at Wayne Manor… 

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Diana asked.

"Who?"

"Lois. Do you think she'll be able to work with Clark each day, knowing what she knows?"

"I think it'll take time, but eventually she will."

Bruce joined her at the windows overlooking the grounds to the west of the mansion. Her perfect eyes reflected the perfect sunset and the perfect orange and pink lines it cast across the sky and through the distant clouds.

"I also think that she won't break any stories about Superman for a while."

There were several levels of meaning in that statement, and Diana understood each of them.

After Clark and Lois reconciled privately, they invited the rest of the league to join them to complete the 'interview'. This time, it was much more casual. They sat in the cafeteria. Flash made sure that vittles were in constant supply, although he was the major source of their depletion. Lois's ability to grasp the magnitude of the day's events had left quite an impression on all the heroes. By the end of the meeting, there weren't many questions in anybody's head about why Superman felt as he did for her. She's clearly a remarkable person.

The severity of the situation was laid out plainly for Lois; Superman had lost his powers, but only temporarily. They had hidden the fact for security reasons or at least until they find out who 'Mastermind' was and why he (or she) did what they did. They were careful not to burden her with too many things, and Clark had admitted that a lot had happened within the League since the incident that he wasn't aware of – again, for security reasons. Batman's secrets were carefully omitted.

She poked and prodded professionally, naturally. It was so easy to talk to her that some sensitive items might have been revealed, had it not been for the occasional clearing of Batman's throat. Before the two reporters returned to the Daily Planet, the League, as a whole, was confident that Lois would not reveal anything sensitive, but instead, would concentrate her investigative efforts on exposing 'Mastermind.' News was news after all, and she would be serving a greater good working on a story like that.

After, nobody seemed to notice that Wonder Woman and Batman left in the javelin together. It was the start of a 3-day stretch of time off for her and night was drawing on Gotham for him. They had just enough time to casually enjoy each other's company and some of Alfred's sumptuous cuisine before he started his patrol.

Standing in comfortable clothes at the base of the arched window, he stepped coolly behind her and slid his hands smoothly around her waist. She let her hands join his and tilted her head to enjoy his soft kisses on her neck.

"I'm happy to see Clark and Lois are finally together," she smiled.

Bruce hummed in agreement.

"He's been so patient, waiting for her…" she continued thoughtfully. "She impressed me today. I really think he found a true companion…"

"Mmm-hmmm."

Her eyes softly shut and her head sank back as she enjoyed his attentions, their bodies fitting against each other comfortably.

"When we roast her on a spit," she said sensually as she found a handful of his black hair over her shoulder, "I'm sure some honey bar-b-cue sauce and her tender flesh will go down well with a fine Pinot Grigio."

"Mmm-hmm."

She could have held back more when her elbow found his gut, but that would have been no fun. Fortunately, he didn't land on anything breakable. Before he fully recovered, she had straddled his chest and pinned him down, smiling savagely in his confused face.

"You weren't listening at all, were you?"

"Yes I was!"

"Then what did I say?"

He swallowed, stalling for time.

"You were talking about Clark and Lois…"

"Uh-huh."

"And you said that you were happy for them…"

"Yeah…"

"And then you said something about white wine and a bar-b-cue."

"Nice try," she smiled triumphantly. She stood up and with one hand she viscously hoisted him off the floor by his shirt, planting a deep, lustful kiss on him as he rose.

"I think you better get ready for patrol, _Batman,_" she ordered playfully and then pushed him towards the door.

His expression showed that he considered the truth to the suggestion and turned to leave. However, he had noticed the mix of surprise and disappointment on her face that he had given up so willingly. He didn't wear the smile that accompanied the secret he was forming, and after two calculated steps, when he was _sure_ that she believed he was truly walking out of the room, he responded in kind.

She watched him make for the door and sighed as she bent her head back towards the darkening sky out the window. Her peripheral vision was just acute enough to notice that he disappeared, then she felt the rush of a breeze blow past her.

"I am the night," he announced playfully for show.

"You are, are you?" she responded just as playfully, readying herself for whatever he had in mind.

"I am vengeance," he continued from a different corner of the room.

"I've heard that," she admitted, hoping that it would buy her enough time to gain some kind of advantage.

"I'm BATMAN!" he roared as he scooped her up in his arms at full speed and carried her down to the Batcave giving her just enough time to let out the first strings of her giggles.

He stopped in front of the armory, reappeared, and held her body close, enjoying the comfort of her arms around his neck. She leaned her forehead against his and their eyes smiled at each other.

"Yeah," she said with mocking forced in her voice, "you'll do…"

His smile dropped at her touché, then he dropped her as well. She was too graceful, powerful and quick to land on her rump, but instead, landed on her feet, her sweet smile cocking into one of smug victory.

"Wait up for me?" he asked, kissing her hands.

"Will it be worth my time?" she cooed seductively.

"Isn't it always?" he teased.

This time, _his_ smile was the one of victory and her face conceded his truth.

"Since you put it _that_ way…"

He bid her an intimate farewell, donned his armor and, with a vicious roar, his sleek black vehicle disappeared into the darkness down the tunnel. In a few moments, she found herself alone in the cavernous, damp cave as it echoed the soft, distant sounds from unseen corners. The chill in the air and the dreary mood of the setting wasn't enough to overwhelm the warmth of the smile she wore on her face and in her heart.

Her Knight... off to fight the never-ending battle. Her colleague and the warrior by her side... continuing on his mission. Her soul mate. The one man that she waited thousands of years to find and accept into her life, who accepted her love and returned it in kind, if not twice over. The very concept was so foreign to her not a month ago, now she couldn't even remember how she felt before their lives and hearts connected.

She turned towards the main computer and sat down casually. As she nosed around to pass the minutes until she decided the best way to occupy her time, something caught her attention in a computer folder she had never noticed before.

The fact that she found and opened the folder wasn't nearly as surprising to her as the fact that Bruce seemed to have left a rather secret set of data unlocked. To think that Batman would have a lapse in his computer security seemed amusing at first – a source of teasing for her to tap into when the time was right. But when she opened a couple of files, she found herself growing more and more perplexed at what she found.

The slight twinge of guilt at prying into sensitive data grew into a wave of concern and disbelief as her eyes scanned the dates and times of documented experiments he had performed. His research into a device to restore himself and Superman showed how feverishly he had worked during the first few weeks after the incident. But it seemed that his efforts dropped off severely, to almost no progress at all as of late. If she was interpreting the data properly, it looked as if Batman hadn't done _any_ work to speak of in _days_.

Wide-eyed and slack jawed, Diana sank back into the plush black chair. Could this be right? Was Batman neglecting his research?

Her mind raced through all the possibilities that could give him the benefit of doubt; was she reading this stuff correctly? Was he overly busy lately? Were the experiments and procedures difficult or time consuming?

She sat back and let out a cleansing breath. There must be something she was missing. There must be some information that explained why it appeared that Batman wasn't doing the work that he had claimed he had been devoting his time to day in and day out.

She ran a quick check of files in the new folder, looking for ones that had been created or updated lately. What she found furthered her curiosity; there were several dozen mission files outlining activities... activities that she didn't recognize from any of the official League summary reports. At first, she thought that he was simply running what appeared to be 5 to 8 times the normal number of patrols in Gotham, but only a handful of reports were logged in as Gotham documents. No, it wasn't simply extra Batman time he had outlined.

Reviewing the mission summaries, she recognized a few of them – ones that she had seen Batman's write-ups for on official League releases. But for every one she recognized, there were at least 3 or 4 more that she didn't. She rifled through the files growing more curious, more concerned, and feeling slightly betrayed. The conclusion that slowly set into her mind; Batman was taking on at least 50 percent of the Leagues Missions in secret.

Quickly, quietly, she copied as many files as she dared to an empty CD she found and radioed for J'onn on a secure channel. Within minutes, she was aboard the Watchtower with him, reviewing the information they stole. To her dismay, he arrived at the same conclusion that she did. Even more disturbing was a new dimension to the data that she had not uncovered.

"It would seem that Batman has his own system of rating different aspects of each mission," J'onn declared. "He has a numeric value that he can assign to different characteristics and can rate - or quantify - the effectiveness of each mission, the long-term effects on a given part of a society or region… cost… even the degree of danger associated with the actions required."

"Sounds very efficient," Diana tried, letting her optimism shine through.

"Indeed," the Martian replied. "But something disturbs me about these hidden missions…"

"What?"

"If I'm reading this correctly," J'onn drew in a deep breath, "Based solely on a weighted rating system, Batman has single-handedly encountered 78 percent of the danger the Justice League confronted last week."

"There _must _be some mistake…"

* * *

AN: Betrayal... it comes in many shapes and sizes. Lois felt betrayed, then decided that she was the one that did the betraying. Lex... the ultimate in misleading and betraying unearned trust. Batman... is he betraying the trust of the entire League? Is Diana betraying Bruce by stealing copies of files from his Bat-Computer? Oh, what a wicked web we weave... 

AN: Long. This story is so darn LONG. When I hatched the idea, I knew how I wanted the story to go, and for the most part, I haven't changed a whole lot from my original outline. I just had no bloody idea that it would take so many words and chapters to take us there. If you're getting bored, sorry. I'm trying to keep it interesting as the plot thickens a little more... and it will get plenty thick in coming chapters.

AN: And of course, as always, mega-thanks to reviewers!

To BKK:  
I thank you for your patience. Busy, don't ya know - I don't update as often as I want to lately! Thanks for the review.

To Anon:  
Wow! Very good points you made - very useful, thanks for taking the time to make them! I'd like to address them if I could - hopefully it clears a couple things up...

1. Batman... imotional instability? MMMM... Could be... read this and subsequent chapters!

2. You're absolutely right, the Watchtower doesn't get teleporters until the JLU season. But I needed to get people in and out of the watchtower quickly, so I stole some stuff. Hey, AU... what the heck, right?

3. My bad - I'm not a writing expert. Sometimes I have trouble with omnipotent narration and remembering small details, etc. I see the scenes in my head and try to write them out so you see the same things...

4. Didn't know that about Darkie & Lexie... thanks for correcting me. I wouldn't have thunk it.

5. Clayface infiltrating the Watchtower... well, that's their plan. Will J'onn detect it? Will Bat's catch something? Great questions! You'll have to wait and see, wontcha?


	15. Chapter 15: Trust and Allegiance

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me. Besides.. it's AU - live a little!

* * *

Chapter 15: Trust and Allegiance

Delores Winters, the sexy young actress and fiancé of Matt Hagen was sitting on the balcony of her apartment overlooking the Gotham skyline when a funny electronic song rang from her purse. She picked out her cell phone and checked the caller ID: "Hot Stuff"

"Hey, hon!"

"Hi, Del. Listen, I'm gonna be a little late tonight. Doc's gotta run a few tests…"

"More tests?" she sighed in frustration. "Matt, are you sure you can trust these guys? I mean, they're making you do all this stuff… it's not like they're helping you out of the goodness of their hearts."

Her sarcasm was dripping off her words. Matt wasn't immune to it.

"I don't know," he confided sadly. "They're telling me all kinds of things and taking samples and showing me these experiments… It looks like they really might have a way to help…"

Delores sensed his hesitation.

"…Buuuuttt…" she poked.

"But," he continued after a second, "I can't tell if what they're showing me is real or just some way to keep stringin' me along."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Me too," he replied, the draining hope clear in his voice before he changed it to sound more chipper. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'll be about an hour late tonight."

"Ok," she accepted warmly. "I'll see you when you get here. Love ya!"

"Love ya, too, Del."

She put her phone down on her end table and crossed her sleek legs as she sat back into the couch. Knowing that Matt had handled more than his share of sticky situations was little aid in alleviating her worry. Her helplessness and frustration with the whole situation was growing each day, after each meeting he recounted to her.

These two _scientists_ that he said could help… she didn't trust them at all. But she trusted Matt. Up until this last straw, that had been enough for her to allow things to go on as they were. With this last run of 'tests', however, she was opening the door to the possibility that her fiancé could benefit from a little help.

An actress herself, she specialized in playing the sexy coed victim in 'B' slasher movies, or the seductive mistress of the villain. Both were types of roles that she absolutely loved to play and her acting style as well as her physical assets lent to the parts perfectly. Low-budget roles kept the paychecks modest but steady and she even enjoyed attention from the occasional cult-fan on the street without having to deal with a mob or the paparazzi frenzy that more well-known actresses must suffer – even though she was every bit as talented as any Hollywood starlet and more attractive than most.

In fact, she enjoyed quite a good laugh at Matt's story about Lex Luthor's reaction when he had entered his office shape-shifted into her likeness. From the way Matt described it, Lex certainly paid his full attention. And she admitted that Matt was superb in his ability to imitate her walk and talk and mannerisms, but when all was said and done, he was still a male actor playing the role of a woman. Now, if _she_ were actually the one that had walked into that room, with her feminine ways and her perceptive prowess of the male of the species, then Lex wouldn't have stood a _chance_… for a few minutes at least.

It didn't take long for Delores to form a plan to try to tip the scales in Matt's favor. Despite her ditzy roles, she really did have a powerful brain inside her head and she didn't delude herself into thinking that she would save the day or any such non-sense. No, that wasn't her goal and in reality, wasn't even necessary. All she had to do was make sure that Lex and that… Dr. Ultra guy… really did have _some _intention on helping her future husband. Something like that could be deduced from almost any simple form of body language, facial twitch, tone of voice. They wouldn't have to admit it or deny it outright for her to discover their true intentions. All she had to do was… be herself.

* * *

"So…" Diana said despondently, running her fingers through her hair. "Batman has been secretly taking on the most dangerous League missions without any of us knowing about it."

"So it would seem," J'onn confirmed. "There is also evidence that he has been taking missions that normally wouldn't have called for Justice League action."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at these…" J'onn brought up a list of missions on the monitor. "…and these."

Diana looked at the continuing mission logs as they scrolled up the screen. J'onn was right, although the abstract of the missions outlined dire situations that called for extraordinary help, many of the missions were local to specific cities or regions. There were missions in places that were known to fall in the jurisdiction of other, non-league heroes, as Green Lantern once described it. Not only was Batman taking on the lion's share of the League's missions, it seemed he was trying to take on all evil everywhere…

"How could we _miss_ this?" Diana asked incredulously.

The Martian didn't answer right away. He telepathically felt the emotional state of the room as he considered what she had asked him. Why didn't she ask about Batman and why he was doing what they feared? Why was her first reaction to put the blame on the League… which included herself?

"Perhaps our trust in him is misplaced…"

"You don't really believe that, do you J'onn?"

"This evidence draws Batman's actions into question…"

"No, this evidence points out how he's trying to take on the whole world so the rest of us don't have to!"

"That's one way to interpret it. I wonder how the others will view it."

She shot him an icy glare, which didn't affect him at all.

There was no denying that all evidence pointed towards Batman keeping information from the others about missions that he took in the League's name. That was a very serious fact to consider, no matter how noble or chivalrous his intentions may have been. The question floating in the air that neither colleague had broached was what to do about it.

Should they talk to the rest of the League and confront Batman as a team? The reactions would vary and a group confrontation like that promises to be more than tense.

Should they talk to him first to get his side of the situation before they make an official Incident of it? Even a private confrontation could turn sour quickly – especially since Diana had acquired the data in a somewhat unethical way.

"Look," she said, pacing the room, her hands animating her thoughts. "Batman's always had a secretive streak about him. This wouldn't be the first time he did something that we all thought he should have been open about…"

"While that's true," J'onn agreed, "this would be the first time that he went behind our backs to function in the name of the League. This is more serious than any other episode."

"Do you think we should talk to him about it?"

"Eventually we will. The real question is; do we talk to the others about it first?"

* * *

Early the next morning...

The note left next to the bat-computer keyboard simply read; "B, Had to go. JL. See you soon. D."

This wasn't the first time Justice League business had called her away – or called him away – and effectively interrupted some alone time. Only this time, it was a little more annoying since she was supposed to be on a 3-day stretch of time off. Batman crumpled the note and dropped it into a small wastebasket on his way to the armory. Mentally, he calculated how long it would be to replenish his supplies, evaluate his armor and fabricate an excuse to teleport up to the Watchtower.

_If it was serious enough to call her in from time off, it may be dangerous…_

He dropped a black boot onto the stone floor as he sat on the cold stainless bench. He heard Alfred approaching as he was taking off the other.

"Good morning, sir," the stately gentlemen saluted as he entered the room.

"G'morning Alfred."

"There was a call for Batman late last night… It seems that Commissioner Gordon has a few questions to ask about a weapons smuggling operation that was disturbed near the docks."

Bruce's face turned introspective as he nodded his understanding. He slowly doffed his equipment as he considered what Gordon could want to talk about. He reran the incident in his mind as he emptied his utility belt with robot-like enthusiasm. Clearly there was something important about that incident in order to call out his full concentration like that…

Alfred didn't miss his charge's body language. He wordlessly worked side-by-side with Bruce, going through the age-old routine of checking cape and vest for signs of damage or wear. He allowed the silence to perpetuate, offering his surrogate son the opportunity to comment if he felt it was necessary. And judging by the expression Alfred read, it wouldn't be long before Bruce sounded some ideas off him.

But as the two marked flaws and small bits of damage on the black costume with chalk, the words never came. Alfred's patience wasn't rewarded as he expected; he wasn't invited into Bruce's head for conference. It was somewhat perplexing to the older man because he was certain that there were reams of questions, scenarios and information bubbling around Bruce's mind and all the times that he'd seen that face and read that body tension, he was eventually called upon – if only to hear the younger man's thoughts. But not this time.

No, this time, Bruce was clearly rolling machinations internally and Alfred wasn't made privy to any of it. This time, there was a coldness to the routine the teammates ran as they mechanically shelved and replaced batarangs. Bruce never glanced at his butler, nor acknowledged his assistance or even his presence. He just worked in the cold room with his mind clearly a million miles away – or at least 18 miles away and 5 and a half hours ago.

Wanting to press into the situation in the most unobtrusive way, Alfred relied on his station as a servant, and chose his words accordingly.

"Sir, the Commissioner's office opens in just over three hours," he stated dryly. "Should I make sure you're awake on time so Batman can contact…"

"I won't be sleeping."

"No?"

The curiosity didn't show on Alfred's face.

"No, I… uh…" Bruce considered. "I have some things to look into up on the Watchtower."

* * *

The first thing Lex Luthor noticed when he lifted his head from the reports on his desk was her cleavage. Then his primal male side was mesmerized by her saunter… or was it a strut? He slid his eyes up her long legs in their sheer black stockings, crowned with an intriguing black skirt and a red silk blouse that pushed classy and sultry into a whole new realm of cooperation. She glided between the two chairs in front of his desk, sidestepped into place, then floated her lean hips down into the leather cushions. The final scene of the act was the precision in which she crossed her legs so comfortably, so femininely. Her eyes never left his face and the confident hint of her grin never left her crimson lips.

It was then that Lex finally noticed that she even had a face, and it took a second to recognize it at that. He had seen that face, that body before. Somehow it was different this time.

"Mr. Hagen," he spoke with a mix of disappointment and awe, "you are getting better at impersonating…"

"Actually," her deep soft voice interrupted, "I'm the _real_ Delores Winters. Matt is my fiancé."

The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly and there was an unmistakable sparkle in her eye. Clearly, she enjoyed male attentions and was an expert at acquiring them.

"Oh… Miss Winters," Lex said apologetically, raising to his feet out of protocol. "I apologize, but the other day..."

"Matt can impersonate me better than anybody else," she confessed with a sly smile, "because he knows me so well."

"Of course," Lex conceded returning to his chair. "Well, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you. What brings you to my office today?"

"Mr. Luthor," she started, shifting her voice to all-business and folding her hands on her lap, "I'll be frank. As I'm sure you know, Matt doesn't cherish his condition. For all the opportunities that his abilities may offer, believe me when I tell you that it isn't worth the price he pays, day-in and day-out, to live like that."

Lex leaned back into his chair, his elbows on the arm rests, steepling his fingers. His face fell into understanding… or at least he was trying to _appear_ understanding.

"When the accident…. When he _acquired_ his abilities," she continued, "I couldn't stop thinking about all the possibilities, all the things he could _do_ and all the luxuries in life that we could enjoy if he would embrace the situation."

Lex nodded thoughtfully.

"It didn't take long, Mr. Luthor, for me to realize how selfish I was being and how I was compromising Matt's happiness and well being for material things."

She continued on with her monologue, outlining her concerns for her fiancé and lacing in the stray touch of her own pain to drive home how much she loved him. She played the devoted little woman role to a tee, and although she was deeply in love with Matt, her own natural acting talents lent to the performance beautifully. She passed no judgment with her words, no accusations of mistrust in Lex or Dr. Ultra. She simply outlined how important it was to her to see Matt finally be happy and rid of his 'curse'.

As she continued, she keenly took note of Lex and his body language and his facial expressions and motions. He nodded when she did. He frowned and smiled when she did. All in all, he was paying attention to every word she said. Whether his attention was paid out of genuine concern or simple patronization was unclear at first, but as she wrapped up the tearful part of her prepared story, she caught a glimpse of overconfidence in his eyes.

_There it is,_ she thought. _Now he'll try to play the Knight in Shining armor… This guy's about as sincere as an infomercial._

Lex smiled and swivled slightly in his chair before standing up. He moseyed slowly around his desk and sat on the corner. His attitude oozed confidence and warmth, for all it was worth. His voice grew tender as he explained his understanding of the situation and testified to his good intentions of helping Matt in any way he could. He even cited many of the charities that LuthorCorp runs and a few of his own personal contributions as a show of his humanitarian side.

Delores allowed him to perpetuate his façade, recognizing that he was making an attempt to bring the mood of the conversation out of the formal and into the familiar. And by sitting on his desk, his naturally elevated position should make the power of the exchanges lean in his favor.

Unfortunately for him, she was just as learned in social etiquette and body language as he was. She had seen that very maneuver in so many scripts, so many acting classes. Of course, she allowed him to continue, rambling on about so-called progress in the testing or some other such nonsense. She donned the doe-eyed smile of admiration that she had perfected in her teens. She even leaned forward, feigning interest, and awarding Lex with a better view of her endowments.

He continued on with other observations about Matt and complimented him outright. Then turned the conversation to ask questions about her.

_So, now he'll ask about me… trying to show personal interest? Please! You're not fooling anyone, Lex!_

He finished his side of the conversation just as she leaned to her left, set her fine jaw in the palm of her hand and absently tucked a shiny scarlet fingernail between her blindingly white teeth. She caught the microsecond that his eyes flashed to her legs as she shifted in her seat.

_Oh, yeah… he's got nothing on me…_

Lex assumed his most disarming smile and locked eyes with his guest. He straightened up and swept his arm towards the door.

"If you like, Ms. Winters," he said as she rose out of the chair, "I could arrange a tour of our labs… in fact, if your available this afternoon, I could show you around myself…"

"Thank you, Mr. Luthor," she said politely, her appreciative smile having visible affects on his posture, "but I think you've already told me everything I need to hear. I just wanted to meet… and thank the man that Matt had been talking about so much lately…"

They made their way towards the office entrance.

"Well," she laughed as she let her hand land lightly on his arm, "_one_ of the men, anyways…"

"Oh," Lex said in surprise, "you haven't met the good doctor?"

"Actually, no, I haven't yet. Do you know if he's available?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure what he has on his agenda today…" he replied rubbing his chin in concentration.

"Well, I'm sure I'll have the opportunity to meet him before too long."

The two exchanged a few pleasantries before parting ways. When she offered her hand, Lex took it warmly in both his and bent in a gentle bow as she smiled one last time. She poured on the grace as she walked away, knowing full well that he'd appreciate the effort as he watched. Even after she turned the corner, she maintained her sensual air of dignity and charm. Her expression showed confidence and contentment in the elevator, through the lobby and into the closest cab. Only after she was a mile away from LuthroCorp Towers, did she sigh and let her face show the worry she was truly feeling.

_He didn't mean a single word he said. Matt, I think you're in trouble…_

Meanwhile, back at his desk, Lex was carefully watching her depart his building through the security feed on his computer. The frown on his face was a stone cold contrast to the mask he had just been wearing.

_Manipulative little bitch. She's going to be a problem…._

* * *

Lois Lane leaned against her apartment door as it closed. She heaved a cleansing sigh and gratefully closed her eyes. It felt good to finally be home with the world shut out behind her locked door. She mustered the strength to finish her homecoming and kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse and coat in an abandoned heap on the floor and collapsed face down on the couch. The working day was finally over.

_A nap would hit the spot. A nice, long, 3-day nap…_

The day had been so long, so trying. At one point, she looked at the clock on the lower right corner of her computer screen just before lunch, only to realize that it was barely past 9:00 am. Only 86 minutes had passed since she found her seat, yet it felt like the day should have been half over. She couldn't type, she fumbled her words when she answered her phone (if she answered it). She let her coffee go cold, but didn't even notice and drank it any way.

Her mind was _not_ on her work, nor could she find a way to think about anything but the unassuming man in the unassuming navy suit just 17 feet away, casually typing out a story for tomorrow's edition. He had warmly greeted her when she arrived, which was not uncommon or unexpected since people had noticed that they had been growing closer lately. But when nothing more intimate than that happened… when his voice sounded like the secret of the millennium _wasn't_ racing through his mind as it was hers… she shivered. It was then that she knew that life today would be far more difficult than she thought.

All the planning she did, keeping her up half the night before, hadn't helped. Trying to mentally prepare herself to approach her daily grind in her typical fashion proved fruitless. She had always prided herself in her mental toughness and she knew she could handle stress as much as anybody, but it seems she underestimated the change her life had just begun to endure and overestimated her ability to handle it.

It was half past eleven when Clark…_Superman_… stopped by to ask her about lunch. He poked his handsome face with the dorky glasses over the half wall and asked a simple question. His cavalier attitude absolutely flabbergasted her. He didn't even finish his question because in instantly saw how much trouble her day… her life held.

"Hey!" he finally said, snapping her attention onto him. His voice sounded chipper, but his strong, blue eyes locked onto hers and showed his concern. "If ya got a minute, I'd like to show you something…"

Absently she nodded and followed him to the elevator. Her head wasn't held nearly as high as it normally was. What's more, she knew it. She knew that her posture, her gait, her expression all betrayed that Lois Lane was out of sorts and she even knew that if she tried to cover it up, then it would look even more conspicuous. The elevator doors couldn't close fast enough.

Clark took her to the roof. He had nothing really to show her, he just knew that she needed an excuse to get out of there. He also knew that she needed to borrow a little strength, if he could spare it. Now that she started to understand how her life was never going to be the same again, she needed to vent _something._

There were two people smoking up there, but they were almost finished. He took her to a far corner and leaned on the wall, overlooking the business district. He didn't say a word, just waited for her to join him and let it all out. She leaned back against the wall next to him and crossed her arms, waited meekly for the others to leave, pretending to enjoy the sunshine and the cool wind, but she didn't feel any of it. Eventually, they found themselves alone.

"I'll be alright…" she started.

He didn't say a word, didn't look at her. And she didn't look at him either.

"Really…" she continued. "It's been a rough morning, but… it'll get better."

There was no conviction in her voice. Her eyes rarely left her shoes and when they did, they focused on nothing in particular. She tried starting a half dozen more sentences but couldn't seem to find the words to finish them. Her emotions bubbled a little more with each frustrating word she stuttered out. It didn't take long before she turned her reddening face to him, the brimming tears stinging her eyes, and called him out.

"How do you do it?"

He didn't move, though his profile seemed to grow harder.

"How can you talk to me as if nothing has happened? " the tears finally broke loose and she turned her head away from him. "I don't know what to _say_ to you, I don't know what to _think_… I can't even _look_ at you when somebody else is around because I'm afraid they'll see what I'm feeling and then they'll know that… that I know!"

She glanced at him and saw that he still wasn't looking at her. It almost felt like he wasn't even there with her, he just kept staring off into the distance, at nothing at all.

"This is harder than I thought it would be," she confesses as she fumbled for a tissue in her purse and tried in vane to mask a sniffle with a laugh. "I just don't know how you can act so… so _cold_."

Finally, slowly, mechanically, he turned his head to look into her. His eyes showed the depth of his sympathy just as his face showed the strength of his character.

"Now you know why it took me so long to tell you."

After the moment that it took for her to comprehend the absolute truth of his declaration, she nodded and tried a half-hearted smile. Sighing, she leaned her head against his shoulder and hugged his arm tight.

They didn't speak for a few precious minutes, alone on the breezy roof of the Daily Planet. It was what she needed; to be alone with him again. She needed a reminder that it was really happening and that her life was only up-side-down for a while. She'd adjust, overcome. He would still be there for her. He wouldn't fly off after saving the day. No, Superman was _in her life_, more than ever before. He had chosen her and invited her into his most sacred places, and it wasn't a dream. It wasn't fanciful wishing. It was real and he was standing next to her, helping her cope with the promises and the secrets they now shared. She needed that from him, and he gave it to her. As always, he was saving her once again.

After that, things were less dramatic, but still challenging. Lois was able to produce an article suitable for printing in tomorrow's edition. It wasn't her best work, but it sufficed. And when all seemed like it may actually boil down to a normal level of hectic, something unexpected found its way into her world.

It came by way of certified courier. She signed for the large padded envelope and methodically ripped the pull string open. At first, she didn't trust the unlabelled computer disk that fell into her hand. There was no accompanying note or message. The return address turned out to be a fake. It wasn't the first time a prominent journalist received an anonymous package, and Lois had received her fair share in her years at The Planet. She was about to discard it when something about the shimmering rainbow reflection off the disc's surface caught her eye.

She immediately called Clark over.

"Look at this," she ordered.

He tilted his glasses down and inspected the disc, front and back. After a moment he straightened up and confessed that he saw nothing unusual about it.

"Oh, really?"

She pulled out a similar disc and laid them on the desk side-by-side. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she pulled him down to make his head about level with hers and told him to look at them again, paying particular attention to the spectrum reflections.

After a second of bobbing and weaving his head around, Clark's face dropped into a look of discovery, then of serious concern.

"Do you see it?" she prodded.

"Yeah…" he said, looking back and forth from disc to disc. "Yeah… the spectrum is different. Your CD looks OK, but this new one…"

"There's no green in the spectrum!"

"Wait!" he stopped her. "Look, there _is_ some green, but on the edges…"

"I've got an idea," she announced, grabbed the disks and headed for the Boardroom.

Clark had to trot to catch up. She burst through the wooden doors into the dark room and marched around the leather chairs to the media console.

"Leave those off!" she scolded when Clark turned on the lights.

Activating some buttons and controls, Lois turned on an over-head document viewer with a bright halogen light source. Ignoring the image it projected on the viewing screen, she instead looked intently on the rainbow reflection it cast on the dark ceiling.

"That's unusual," Clark observed as she tilted and rotated the disk. "I've never seen a CD shine reflections like that."

"That's because this isn't your usual CD!" Lois declared with evident excitement growing.

Clark stood by, partially concerned, but mostly impressed with his love's cleverness. His eyes followed hers across the ceiling and his jaw fell at roughly the same time hers did.

The ghostly colors on the drop tiles overhead showed overlapping circles of colors, but what was clearly missing was the truest of greens. What's more, where the green _should have been_, there was a pattern to the void; that of Superman's "S" crest.

It didn't take long for Clark to pick up the phone and call the extension of the Daily Planet IT department. Without explaining too much, he told them that he had a suspicious computer disc and that he needed it checked over for unusual content. The workday ended with the disk in the able hands of a ridiculously-young man with questionable grooming habits and his promise to have answers for them in the morning. Although they both trusted this young hacker, his assurance didn't take their minds completely off the situation.

As Lois and Clark left the office together, they made plans to meet at her place in a couple hours. There were still so many things to talk about. After returning from the Watchtower the day before, he told her outright that, now that she knew about him, she should know _everything_ about him. She happily and eagerly agreed. They talked about so many things until well into the night and they still had so much to discover together.

She wanted to write a list of strange things she'd noticed over the years and pin down some answers, but thought better of it. Taking seriously the level of security her life now encompassed, she recognized that such a list would be evidence, or even a confirmation if eyes other than hers saw it. Her logic argued that she could destroy the list before anything unfortunate happened – it was such a small detail after all. Then the logic in her mind that sounded suspiciously like her father's voice reminded her that the details can make all the difference in the world. It was the details that mattered as much if not more than the major facts in many situations.

That little conflict - an internal argument about the details of writing down what amounted to little more than a shopping list of questions – served to remind her just how much her life had really changed in such a short time, and by knowing one teensy little secret…

As she lay face down on her sofa, her mind wandered about the most obscure items as she slipped lazily into her sleep. But no matter which way her subconscious took her, it always seemed to include _him_ and the way her life was heading now.

They had so many things to talk about. They had to hold every conversation they ever had all over again. It would take a long time, they both knew, but they had a long time to bring each other up to speed on their feelings and their lives. When he said that they had the rest of their lives to talk about things if they wanted, she discovered that she didn't mind at all what a statement like that implied. And through it all, she knew deep down that, despite the pain and confusion and secrecy and discovery, the life she was forming finally started to make more sense than it ever had before.

Lois awoke from her power nap when her phone rang from her purse by the front door. Through bleary eyes, she staggered her way across the apartment and fumbled for the device, able to answer it on the last notes of her ring tone as she collapsed in a nearby chair. She didn't even check the caller ID.

"'ello?"

"Ms. Lane?" the young voice cracked.

"Yeah."

"This is Justin…from The P.I.T."

"Who?"

"Justin… from the Planet I.T. Department…" he continued, a touch of coaxing in his voice.

With that, Lois's motivation got a shot of energy. She wasn't expecting to hear from him until the next day. She knew that he must have discovered something important on that CD for him to call now.

"Oh, Justin…" she spouted, sitting up a little straighter. "Tell me you got something."

"That might be a little bit of an understatement…"

Lois listened with waning patience as the young man explained why he was working late after hours, how he found the challenge of cracking the data really refreshing compared to his normal day to day. He even tried to offer his services more often and gave an example of his abilities by citing how he finally deciphered the CD's encryption and coding, speaking in some foreign hacker language. Just as she was about to spur him to move on for the third time, he finally got around to the meat of the topic.

"… basically, it looks like schematics and design specs for some kind of gun or weapon. I'm seeing things like 'Kryptonite crystals', 'gamma radiation generators'… all kinds of cool stuff."

Lois's eyes widened as she thought for a moment… it sounded like snippets of the device that took down Superman! Clark had talked briefly about it when he explained why he had lost his powers, although he had confessed that he didn't fully understand it himself.

But who would supply her with such information? And why? And why _now_?

As if she asked, Justin continued.

"Ms. Lane… Here's the _real_ kicker… I think it came from Lex Luthor!"

* * *

AN: Again, many apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out!

AN: As always, heap big thanks onto those of you that read and review. It really does motivate me to keep typing. Let's face it… if I was doing this only for myself, I wouldn't post it on a public forum, would I?

AN: I always try to reply to my reviewers – it's the courteous thing to do. If I can't send a private review (for you anonymous people) then I tack on my responses at the end of the next chapter. Like this…

To Anon:  
Yep, Batman has been a busy guy. 78 percent? Yeah, that's pretty steep, but it shows the point that he's been doing something _really drastic_ and doing it behind his colleagues' backs. Of course it was a weighted calculation, meaning one dangerous mission counts as more than 5 lighter ones…

For him to do that, you're right… he's gotta be anywhere on the planet at any time. As I mentioned in a response to a previous review, the teleporters sure come in handy with this story. On a side note, I'm keeping a lot of interplanetary conflicts to a minimum… those just get too confusing for me.

As far as your point about Clayface and J'onn and infiltrating the Watchtower… great idea. Is that how you would do it if you had to sneak aboard?

Thanks for the review.  
WL


	16. Chapter 16: Descent

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 16: Descent

J'onn J'onnz liked every member of the Justice League. He appreciated each of their unique qualities and recognized their individuality. Each member brought to the group a different dimension, making the synergy of the organization that much stronger. It wasn't so much how their respective powers complimented each other - no, it was also their personalities that meshed so well (or conflicted at times, really) that made the group hum more often that sputter. He prized the moral tapestry that their souls wove and he cherished his relationships with each one of them.

But Diana was his favorite.

In so many, many ways, she reminded him of many of the females in his old life. Her moral strength and fortitude would remind him of his mother – a woman whose memory he cherished as the source of all the goodness within his own soul. Diana's fiery temper and stubbornness was never a bad thing in his eyes as it reminded him of his sister, who was one of the most dedicated and loyal beings he ever knew. Diana's trust and caring side, which she had only just recently opened to her comrades, reminded him of his late wife, whose love he strives every day still to be worthy of. And Diana's precarious naivety of the _real_ ways of _man's world_ reminded him of the simple optimism of his painfully missed daughter.

She was indeed his closest friend on the Watchtower. He loved her exactly the way she was and if something caused her to feel pain or to change and become bitter, he sensed that more powerfully than he would have from any of the others. He felt a kindred spirit in her, as they both came from outside this world. Where as Hawkgirl was reserved with her relationship with him despite also sharing a foreign origin, Diana was trusting. Not easily so – one had to prove very much that they were worthy of her trust – but once they had, it was firmly in place. Clark had been raised in the mainstream world of Earth, so he radiated a much more conformed presence than that of an alien. No, it was Diana that he felt the strongest loyalty to and he could feel her loyalty as well.

When J'onn first learned of Diana's feelings for Bruce, he had reservations. Not usually one to interfere or comment without an invitation, he stayed out of the situation, waiting and watching. Eventually, he was able to understand why the two were drawn to each other; they were opposite enough to attract, yet alike in so many ways as to share parts of the same spirit. It didn't take too long for J'onn to accept the relationship he witnessed blooming, though the others were laughingly oblivious to it. But he also recognized that the potential for extreme depth and devotion between the two could lead to unbearable pain and sadness, should something not turn out right.

Earlier that morning, when J'onn watched as Diana paced and thought and fumed and rambled about Batman's secret missions, it cemented in his mind how deeply she had fallen for him. There was no denying that she was digging hard and deep for logical reasons to _not_ think the worst of her new love. Had she been less involved, he knew, she wouldn't have given it much of a second thought – she would have immediately demanded more information about what was really going on – even confronted the cryptic hero about his actions if necessary.

As it was, however, he clearly saw that Diana was desperately searching for a way to exonerate Bruce, but based on the data that she had discovered, she hadn't found a way to convince herself, yet, that the conclusions they had come to weren't valid. And he couldn't bring himself to tell her outright that he believed she was searching in vain.

It was because of his feelings for her that he allowed her to keep searching. He had personally given up thinking against the logic of it very quickly, but allowed her to continue. His hope on finding a rosy solution had faded to little more than a wisp. He had more or less decided that Batman was, indeed, up to something secretive and it would take an extraordinary explanation from him to justify what he had been doing. The security, the danger, the public perception, the lines he undoubtedly crossed… there were too many angles to consider for one simple detail to make the solution acceptable. But he let Diana keep digging and thinking and pondering and deducing. He had maintained hope of a happy ending for her sake, because he didn't want to see her get upset or angry… or hurt.

He didn't tell her how Hawkgirl had mentioned in passing just the other day that it was 'getting boring around here.' He didn't mention how Flash had teased him when he told the young hero that he had been reading more Classic Literature in his ample amounts of spare time lately. He didn't guide her to a logical conclusion by asking her about how Green Lantern's abilities weren't missed when he was called away on an official Lantern mission at a planet hundreds of light years away. No, J'onn kept those things to himself. They were such insignificant details then, but in retrospect, they helped complete the overall picture. Even to Martians, hindsight is 20/20.

Unfortunately for Diana, and in a way, unfortunately for J'onn too, all they could come up with was that Batman was taking on mission after mission after mission, and telling nobody about it. He was documenting the details in his own archives, but releasing precious little to the rest of the League. The most obvious and important facts were in the Watchtower databases – that was a good thing; it showed that he wasn't endangering the League by keeping vital information to himself. But plentiful solid accounts like that were simply not found as the two poured over the facts.

Within an hour of their investigation, they agreed that more needed to be known. What they hadn't agreed upon by the opening hours of the morning, was how to continue their investigation; specifically should tell the others at this point or not. They also hadn't discussed letting Batman know that they had uncovered his secret mission reports, but both of them felt that the World's Greatest Detective would know about it long before they confessed. He would most likely approach them before they approached him on the subject.

J'onn was watching Diana, who was deep in thought, when she jumped slightly as her communicator crackled in her ear.

"Batman to Wonder Woman."

"This is Wonder Woman, go ahead Batman," she replied, shrugging at J'onn yet trying to sound official.

"You weren't at the rendezvous, is everything alright?"

"Rendezvous?" she stalled, then remembered that she had told him that she would be waiting in the Batcave when he returned from patrol. "No, everything's fine… I had some business on the Watchtower…"

"You're not on a mission?" he asked with a touch of surprise in his otherwise calm voice.

"Uh, no…" she stalled.

"Batman, this is J'onn. I am with Wonder Woman right now. She's giving me a hand with some mission files I am classifying. We're both in the monitor womb right now."

"Understood. Batman out."

Diana held her eyes open wide as her cheeks puffed out with her sigh of relief, collapsing into a chair. She was grateful for J'onn's ability to defuse the situation without lying. She was also somewhat curious as to why Batman was so easily convinced with such a simple answer.

"Diana," J'onn said as warmly as he knew how, "we have to do something. We've been reviewing the data all night and discussing our options. The others will be here soon and we have to decide what to tell them."

Diana swiveled her chair towards the computer console, propped her elbows on the desktop surface and leaned her mouth against her fists. Her eyes darted as she raced for an answer. It only took a moment, but it felt much, much longer.

Without looking at him, she sat up straight, slapped her palms on the desktop and made the command decision.

"We tell them nothing."

J'onn didn't even bother to say that he needed more of an answer than that.

"Right now," she continued, "this is a secret investigation with security implications. The fewer people that know about this, the better. And if we can keep Batman from knowing that we've found this out, we can find the answers for ourselves without him handing us what he wants us to know."

J'onn was utterly impressed. Cool, calculated and logical solutions were not uncommon from Wonder Woman, but _this_ was something unexpected, not to mention a complete reversal of the internal conflict he had been observing within her for the past several hours. She had provided a simple solution to a complex problem and had done so without any feelings or passion interfering with her decision. She never looked stronger to him, and at the same time, he wondered why he couldn't feel her emotions. Then he realized that she had none.

She had turned them off.

Just like Batman does.

* * *

The rest of the day, the J'onn and Diana were able to function without incident. They showed no hint to the others that anything out of the ordinary was going on. Fortunately, it wasn't hard really; Flash was as oblivious as ever, John & Shayera seemed to be in a constant bicker and Batman stayed thankfully absent. 

No, the others didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary, but it was taxing to the extreme on Diana's mental stamina to keep up the façade. She was never one to deceive. It's simply not in her nature. When faced with a conflict, an untruth or an injustice, she took action. Simple.

But _this…_ This _act_ that she had to maintain… it was so foreign to her. Just a couple years ago, she would have considered it cowardly. To _pretend_ that everything is alright, yet to know that there were strange goings on occurring and she was perpetuating the cover-up… Part of her felt ashamed, dirty.

This wasn't like the intimate secret that she and Bruce shared – the secret that put a quiet smile on her face these past few weeks. No, that was something else, something personal, special. Nobody else in the group needed to know about that, not Kal, not J'onn… none of them. That kind of sweet deceptions was new and welcome.

But not this. She struggled throughout the day to act as if nothing was bothering her. She didn't realize how automatically she was pulling a page straight out of Batman's book to stifle her emotions. The others didn't suspect a thing, partly because she was doing a good job, but also because Batman had hid his actions so well, so there wasn't even a hint of suspicion. In fact, nobody even bothered to ask why she was aboard the Watchtower on one of her days off. Had they been more attentive, there may have been some hard questions to answer.

The other dimension was that she meandered through her day virtually dreading the coming evening with Bruce. To convince the others that nothing was going on was one thing. To hide this from _him_ was going to be something else entirely. She had no duties to keep her away. She had already told him that she had no plans and would spend the weekend at the manor with him. She _had_ to go… if only she didn't.

She spent her day doing more research, yet casually covering it with the blanket explanation of professional curiosity. Sifting through various news outlet broadcasts, web pages, and other sources, she and J'onn started compiling information about Batman's "secret" missions.

At first, they couldn't find much at all. But eventually, they found a pattern; "Batman" had only taken on the missions in the most obvious and logical cases. The rest were never officially reported. There were no police logs, no incidents, no news crews present. What was available was tabloid information about unexplainable occurrences. Ghost stories. Supernatural phenomena. No sightings of a 'hero' were reported.

There was the story in New York about a house fire in which 3 fire fighters were trapped and how, miraculously, a brick wall collapsed and afforded them a safe exit just before the building collapsed. Batman had logged that as an 'unsolicited aid to the public interest.'

There was a gang shooting in a warehouse in Moscow between a dozen and a half members of two rival crime syndicates. Hundreds of bullets were fired, yet nobody was so much as scratched by a single one. The local authorities arrived to find all the suspects trapped within the warehouse, all their weapons empty of ammunition or malfunctioning and plenty of evidence to charge all the major players. Batman had logged that as 'organized crime nuetralization'.

The one that made J'onn laugh out loud had to do with string of simple burglaries across the globe where the perpetrators broke into various establishments only to find themselves trapped or locked in and impatiently waiting to be taken into custody. It was the fact that dozens of these suspects had reported that they would never try to steal from a 'haunted' establishment again.

Finding information about the incidents from sources other than Batman's personal files shed light from a different angle on the situation. While there was a percentage of "Official" League missions that Batman had taken on, and even more "independent" missions that he had handled, many of these peripheral missions seemed almost like he was simply doing _good deeds._

While that was an interesting discovery for the two colleagues, it still didn't excuse the cover up. His official missions were the most dangerous, but that wasn't obvious by the official League report – only in his own logs. And the extra missions he had assigned to himself or sought out were also a mystery. Professionally speaking, Diana and J'onn both found it hard not to be offended – to be excluded from the decision making process and to be denied pertinent data about an assignment. But for Diana, it had plunged into a personal level of hurt and – she had to admit… _betrayal…_ that she had trouble rectifying.

At the end of the day, when it was time for Diana to go meet Bruce, she and J'onn exchanged more notes and plans. Their own deception left a bad taste in both their mouths, but until they found out more, it was a necessary evil. They would continue on as if nothing new had been discovered. They would probe as innocently as possible (if the others inquired) about more of these strange 'missions.'

And they would keep an eye on Batman, hoping at the same time that he wasn't doing the same to them.

* * *

_I am Lex Luthor and this message is for Lois Lane._

_In order to view the remainder of the files on this disc, at the prompt, please recite what I told you privately at Superman's funeral._

_Speak now._

"I'm going to miss him, too."

The monitor screen went black. It flashed a few illegible screens and messages as the computer processed information and accessed unlocked files. In a few short seconds, a crystal-clear image of Lex Luthor appeared in a video stream. He was sitting behind his desk in his LuthorCorp office, wearing the obligatory expensive suit. His visage was naturally untelling.

_Hello, Ms. Lane. By now you have, no doubt, viewed the basic schematics of a particular weapon known as the Achilles Device. The technical detail files and other vital specifications are now unlocked for your access. Among other things, you will find that this weapon was designed specifically for Superman in an attempt to hurt him, strip him of his powers or even kill him._

_This device was used against Superman several weeks ago during what is known as "The ACCORD Incident". I have reason to believe that the people who executed the hijacking of the 36 LuthorCorps' ACCORDS were working for a single man, known as The Ultra Humanite, also known as Dr. Ultra._

_He is a sinister man bent on exacting revenge against Superman for something that happened between them long ago. He is a Doctor of Medicine and has superior knowledge of biology and biochemistry as well as impressive command of many other subjects. He orchestrated the ACCORD incident as a trap for Superman so he could use the Achilles Device. If his plan had succeeded, then Superman would be injured, stripped of his powers or even destroyed. Thankfully, it seems that his plan failed, as we all know that Superman is alive and well._

_Right about now, you're probably wondering why I sent you this disk. To be honest, the answer is simple; I want you to get this information to Superman so he and his colleagues can stop Dr. Ultra. You are the only person I trust who can ensure that this information makes it safely into his hands. _

_Perhaps you're asking why I'm taking such an interest in this whole affair. Again, the answer is simple. When Dr. Ultra used LuthorCorps' convoy and products to stage his attack, I took it as a personal affront. _Nobody…_ steals from me. It also had adverse affects on my company and my people. Ever since then, as I stated I would in my press release immediately after all the chaos, I have devoted countless man-hours and vast resources to finding out who was responsible and why. Well, now I know… and now you know._

_Lois, there is one more thing. I believe Dr. Ultra still has his sites on Superman, and I believe it has something to do with his physiology. My sources have discovered that he wants to kidnap Superman and use his body for some kind of medical experiment._

_I'll be frank. It's no secret that I don't adore Superman as the rest of the world does. I've had my share of run-ins with him and I suppose I know what he thinks of me. But, Lois, on that day when I believed, as we all did, that Superman was gone… I really did mean that I would miss him. And, while I don't agree with many of his beliefs or condone many of his actions, believe me when I say that whatever resentment I have felt for him pales in comparison to what I am harboring for Dr. Ultra._

_I believe that this is one situation where The Man Of Steel and I can put aside our differences and work together to rid our world of a common enemy. I have taken the first step by providing all I can about The Ultra Humanite. If you feel you can trust me, then please deliver this disc to Superman. I believe both you and he know how to contact me._

The screen went black with a large LuthorCorp symbol in the center. A few seconds later, the computer desktop and all of Lois's familiar icons rested idly in front of her. There was a new icon in the shape of the LuthorCorp logo added. Over her shoulder, Clark Kent sat silently, staring at the screen as if he expected something else to happen.

Turning away from her computer, Lois rolled her chair back. She didn't look at Clark, but she was thinking about him. Part of her brain was in full-investigation mode; she wanted to know how much Luthor _really_ knew and if anything she just heard was true. She wanted to investigate this _Dr. Ultra_ guy and find out what his story was. She wanted to have some wire-biting techno-geek look at the schematics of he Achilles Device to see if it really could be the weapon Lex said it was.

The other half of her brain was swimming in uncharted waters. A week ago, such a CD would have caused her to march unannounced into Luthor's office and demanded more answers to the questions he planted. She would have started at least three different stories; one on Luthor, one on The Ultra Humanite and, of course, one on her Superman. As it was, however, it was this other half of her brain that was overcome with questions and concerns about what she should do.

To be linked with Superman was not a new thing for her. However, in the past, she wore that distinction like a badge of honor. Plus, she was never one to back down from a fight – even if she stood alone. The added knowledge that Superman favored her – if only a little – made her even more bold at times when common sense commanded not to. _Mess with me and you'll have Superman to answer to…_ Now, with the new intimate knowledge of his secret identity… such a closeness made her much more protective of him. No longer did she feel that she could recklessly go off half-cocked and rely on him to save her. She felt more responsible for _protecting_ him than ever before.

Especially because of his current condition... Without his powers, he simply couldn't save the day like he had so many times before. She knew deep down that things should _appear_ as they always had, and that would mean that _if_ she got into trouble again (like she always seems to do) then somebody _had_ to come to her rescue… otherwise, the cat's out of the bag. Lois no longer had the luxury of getting into trouble, for if she had and somebody other than Superman came to her aid, then that would raise too many questions.

Stuck without a plan and without the freedom of going off half-cocked, Lois helplessly looked at her boyfriend with questions all over her face. He didn't look back, but instead was lost deep in thought.

"I don't trust him…" he said quietly.

"I don't either," she replied with a pause. "But it's the best lead I've found so far in all this…"

"It's too easy… too convenient," Clark mumbled shaking his head. "Lex doesn't give out _gifts_ like this… not to me he doesn't."

"There's _gotta_ be _some_ truth to it…" she reasoned, sounding like she was trying to convince herself as much as Clark. "He knows that we… that _I_ would investigate… and eventually you and the League would too. If anything was found out that proved he was lying, well… what would he have to gain from that?"

"Nothing… that's obvious," Clark allowed. "But there's more to what's going on than we're seeing."

The two sat silently for a moment, each contemplating their options in different ways. Lois wanted to follow up on the information Lex provided. To her, it was at least _something_. Even if it were all fabricated, by investigating it would eliminate some possibilities and thus, narrow the search for the truth further.

To Clark… to Superman… it was a blaring siren. To investigate _any_ lead that came from Lex Luthor was akin to a chicken trusting a fox… just a little. There was no in-between with him. Everything he says or does was planned with the ultimate design of furthering his own agenda, and damn whoever got in the way. To Clark, even the act of _investigating_ in and of itself, was essentially playing right into Lex's hands.

"Well, what's the worst that can happen?" Lois asked in her most disarming way. "What could a few internet searches and phone calls hurt?"

"_I. Don't. Know,_" Clark emphasized. "That's the problem… He's dropped this information in our laps for _some_ reason… but _what?!_"

"OK," Lois shifted in her seat to face Clark more fully. Her hands helped her talk as she did. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that he's up to no good… Lex is too slick to feed us a complete fabrication. No, he'd lace enough truth in there to make us go where he wants, right?"

Clark nodded.

"And it's a reasonable thought to consider that he would guess that we wouldn't trust him, right?"

"Of course."

"So, he would have also considered that we would do nothing…"

"…so," he concluded for her, "we have to come up with something that he wouldn't have expected us to do."

"Exactly!" Lois smiled, pointing at him. "So, what's the _last_ thing Lex Luthor would expect Superman to do?"

Clark began to understand where she was going. Lex laid out a path and would most likely have predicted that they would follow some other path or stand still. What if they actually went down Lex's path? He thought hard to come up with a plan that Lex would _not_ have considered.

"Trust him."

* * *

The next evening… 

Dick Grayson stepped out of his shower and wiped the condensation off his medicine cabinet mirror. He shagged the towel through his jet-black hair and considered shaving. It could wait. He numbly went through his pre-patrol grooming and, being alone in his apartment, padded naked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

Gearing his mind for the coming nights' adventures, he prepared his costume and accessories. He had just finished donning his black pants when his keen ears picked up a sound on the balcony outside his living room. Standing as still as a statue, he instantly ran a mental check of his situation and condition. To his relief, the next thing he heard was a polite knocking at the sliding glass door.

Not bothering to cover his bare chest, he made his way out to welcome the Amazon outside his home.

Diana, in full Wonder Woman regalia warmly greeted him and accepted his hospitality. The two exchanged social pleasantries as Dick started a pot of coffee. The conversation was polite enough, but as usual, there was an underlying tension about the true nature of the visit.

Dick excused himself for a moment to finish dressing as the coffee finished brewing. As he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, he shouted jokingly over his shoulder:

"Y'know, it would be nice to see you when you _don't _have something to discuss about him."

Diana felt a flush of guilt over the truth of his jab. She didn't respond, but tried to smile as apologetically as she could when he returned a second later, fully clothed.

"I knew something was up," Dick continued, "when Alfred called me the other day."

"So, you suspected something unusual with Bruce," Diana accused lightly, "but you didn't do anything about it?"

"What was I going to do?" he asked sincerely, not at all defensive by her verbal affront. "All I have to go on is hear-say… and the way Alfred described the whole situation… Bruce would be able to deny anything was wrong."

He poured a couple cups of and offered some cream and sugar.

Diana softened a little at the revelation. Leave it to Bruce to manipulate people and leave himself a clean escape route from any consequences. She used to admire that in him, for some reason it now seemed cowardly to her.

"What exactly did Alfred say?"

"He said he was going on vacation," Dick sighed.

"Vacation?"

Diana knew that entire concept was completely out of touch with Batman's reality, not to mention totally out of character for the older Englishman.

"Has he _ever_ gone on vacation before?"

"Not alone," Dick sighed, remembering things from his past. "We usually took time off together – which wasn't very often. Once in a while, Bruce would have business trips to some exotic places and he'd schedule a 'working vacation' around it. He'd have W.E. business during the day and Alfred and I would go off sight-seeing…"

Dick paused, staring at nothing with just a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. His eyes softened as he fondly remembered the few 'normal' childhood moments he had. After a brief moment of warmth, the coldness came back and his voice grew a touch cynical.

"Later I found out that he was deliberately planning these trips to specific locations because he needed to investigate cases as Batman."

"Dick," Diana started, trying not to sound accusatory, "if sending Alfred away on vacation _alone_ is so unusual, why haven't you done anything about it… asked any questions?"

"I did, actually," he admitted. "Not from Bruce, but I kinda pushed Alfred a little. At first, he sounded disappointed… sad even. He said that Bruce had been doing more and more work around the cave – work that he never had the time or energy to do before because he was always so busy with everything else. Simple stuff, really; keeping things tidy, general maintenance."

Diana listened as the young man explained the conversation and the situation. She learned how Alfred not only maintained the Manor and the grounds but also many areas of the Batcave as well. Keeping supplies in stock, organizing equipment… even occasional work on the Batmobile. But lately, when he'd make his rounds through the cave, he'd find that Batman had already restocked or reordered supplies. He'd find the equipment maintained and cleaned. He'd find drawers and shelves in pristine order. Not always – but more and more often. If it hadn't been for his impeccable sense of duty and loyalty, he would have started to wonder if he should even continue to check.

And it didn't stop there.

Bruce had been curiously maintaining his own living quarters in the Manor as well. He'd prepare his own wardrobe for the day at the office. He kept his closet and library orderly. Even though she had been spending more and more time at the Manor, Diana simply assumed that things were as normal – it never even occurred to her to question _who_ had been dusting the furniture.

Now, it seems the kindly but stern old butler was given a break. Dick described how Alfred recalled the encounter with his employer. Bruce had actually opened by recalling an early memory after his parents had been murdered and how Alfred had always been there for him. He continued on, saying that he owes him more than he could ever repay. Bruce had said that he wants to take care of him now, that Alfred had 'earned' some time to enjoy the things in life that he had 'given up' in order to raise a spoiled, timid little boy. Basically, Alfred's time off had all been arranged as a _gift_.

Then Dick talked about how Alfred didn't seem to appreciate that gift, although he had no reason to doubt that it was given with the best and most honorable intentions. Dick told Diana about the look in his tired eyes as he tried unsuccessfully to convince the young officer that he had no worries that Master Bruce could manage well while he was gone. Dick recalled how forced the laughs were when Alfred joked about expecting to come home to a complete and utter disaster, especially in the kitchen.

All the while, Diana saw the parallels between the happenings at Wayne Manor and the secret mission files she had stolen. She mentioned nothing to the younger man, but listened as if all this odd behavior was new, yet internally she was trying to piece together the larger puzzle. She talked of no signs of anything out of the ordinary, but continued to listen as Dick spoke. But she knew that inevitably he would expect her to reciprocate. She just hadn't decided exactly what she should reveal. And she wasn't prepared for the sly and easy way that Bruce's adopted son unexpectedly cornered her.

"…after all," he said offhandedly, "_you've_ seen how odd Bruce has behaved lately…"

His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers.

Challenge.

She looked away from him instinctively, but stole a quick glance back into his solid gaze. Those strong eyes – so much like his father's.

Technically, he was bluffing. There was no denying that she visited Dick to talk about Bruce, but that was just the general topic. He was just fishing for something she may be hiding, some secret she may know. There was no evidence that Bruce was doing anything _wrong_ or _strange_, Dick was working on instinct. And she had no way to deny him. His accusation came so suddenly, at such an unexpected moment of the conversation, she was caught completely off guard.

When she blushed and looked away, he knew his stab in the dark had found a target. He had caught her knowing something and she had no way to hide it. When she didn't answer after a moment, he called her out.

"Diana, what's he _really_ been doing?"

So much like _him._

"I can't say," she disclosed, looking down at her wringing hands.

"Can't or won't?"

She didn't answer.

And he didn't press it. He respected her too much to corner her - not that he couldn't. Even with her centuries of warrior experience to steel her heart, it was clear that her position was one of defense at the moment.

Dick, always so suave, so gentle that most people didn't even mind it when he tricked them into opening up. His easy smile and personable charm made it almost impossible to resist him. Unlike Bruce, who would pry the mind out of his interrogation subjects with cold, hard words, Dick could massage the defenses away with white teeth and a dimple. Yet beneath the alluring charisma was the stone-like resolve that his nature and his upbringing rooted within him. If Bruce played the quintessential "Bad Cop", Dick was the perfect "Good Cop". So much alike, yet so different…

Diana was almost surprised when he didn't further the topic. She stole another glance at his young face, expecting to see impatience. Instead she saw understanding. There was nothing about his presence that exuded negativity. He was all charm and openness. So why did she feel so guilty for keeping information from him?

When he casually asked if she wanted her coffee topped off, she broke down.

"Alright!" she blurted half smiling.

He didn't look surprised at all.

"But you have to understand," she said in the most serious of tones, "this is Top Secret. Nobody is working on this except J'onn and me."

A flash of confusion crossed his face and was gone again as he leaned back into his chair.

_They're _investigating_ him?_

Diana proceeded to give some of the most general accounts of the past 48 hours to the young officer. She tried to keep it as professional as possible, but she could feel some emotion leaking out at times. Her heart let out precious signs of her pain at feeling betrayed by Bruce and Dick saw them like headlights in the night. She carefully tried to omit 'sensitive' items, but when she saw in his face glimpses of understanding, as if he already knew what she was about to say next. It made her floodgates open even more and the level of detail grew deeper. By the time she was done relaying her accounts (a half hour later), she realized that she had spilled every last bean and was utterly surprised at how relieved it felt to have that weight lifted from her powerful shoulders.

Dick sat silently through the entire confession. He nodded at all the right times and frowned at all the right times. He shifted in his seat when the details grew more interesting and shook his head when she talked about things she didn't believe or agree with. And all the while he hid the shame he felt for being wrong a few weeks ago when he told her not to worry about Bruce. All the while he hoped she wouldn't hold him to that assessment and demand an explanation as to how he could have been so wrong.

And all the while he hid the fear he felt brewing; this may just be the tip of the iceberg.

* * *

**AN: It's been a long, long time since my last chapter. I'm having trouble getting these next few chapters the way I want them to be. I recently re-read many of the reviews that people were kind enough to write and I'm trying to continue the story in a way that you all feel _compelled_ to keep writing more nice things - not so much for my ego (although there is a little of it in there), but because I want to provide readers a story that's worth reading. The problem I'm having is that I've rewritten chapters so many times, I forget what I know and what I've shown the readers! It gets pretty confusing at times.**

**I very much like feedback - not that I'm fishing for more reviews (though, they _are_ nice), but I want to make sure that what you read is, in fact, what I meant to write. I'm an amateur... this is my second fanfic ever. I've never studied creative writing or anything of that nature - so I'm really just winging it here. I have an idea of a story in mind, I have a basic outline & I write it like I see it in my head. I also take bits and pieces of what I like from other fanfics to incorporate into my own story. Not copying, per se, but methods of writing, style points, depth of character and detail... those kinds of things. There are a lot of great stories out there that I enjoy reading, I hope many of you think that I'm adding to that list.**

**I began this story with many chapters that give a lot of character development; explaining feelings, motives and inner conflict, etc. Many reviews have been very nice and complimentary about that. However with much of that established, the pace of the story is slowly changing to accommodate to the increasing action and confrontation. So there's a trade-off, really. I'm sacrificing the narration of the innermost thoughts of the characters to write more about the ramp-up of the conflicts. If I don't, this story would grow intolerably long. I hope that doesn't equate to a decrease in your enjoyment of the story. If so, please feel free to flame me up with reviews - or send me a private email!**

**AN: As I've said many times before, I certainly appreciate the time and effort people put in to posting a review. Long or short, complimentary or flame, the effort is appreciated. I think it's only common courtesy that I respond. I send direct responses to those that post through accounts and I try to put responses to anon. posts at the bottom of the subsequent chapters. Like this:**

**Anon.  
I'll bet you can think of another reason Lex would send Lois the CD - maybe even a few reasons! And I agree with you in that Batman probably wouldn't view his extra activities as a problem... but sometimes it isn't his view that's important! J'onn & Diana are the first ones to know about it - will their views match his? What about the others? Hmmm... Finally, Clayface getting onto the Watchtower - well, I'm not talking about that yet...**

**Thanks for the review!**


	17. Chapter 17: Enemies

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 17: Enemies Part I 

"J'onn, this may be even bigger than we thought."

"Then we should confront him."

"I know…" she sighed.

Diana sat, perplexed at the table in the conference room alone with J'onn. She propped her forehead into her hands, her elbows planted on the hard surface. Her posture was absolutely not regal and her whole form seemed to betray the internal turmoil that she'd been suppressing and trying to resolve.

She had to acknowledge that Bruce has always been one to push himself, even beyond the point of exhaustion. Sometimes his drive seemed to border on obsession – especially when certain conditions were in play (Joker, for example). Before she realized how much she respected him, she really didn't understand some of the extremes of his personality. Eventually, she started to recognize his drive for perfection and she could relate to it in many ways. At times she worried about how hard he would push his limits or how fixated he'd become on a case.

As she grew to admire and respect him, she learned the clues to his behavior that gave away those trying times in his life. He was so good at covering it, so damn good at maintaining the mystery of his presence that it had taken a little bit of obsessive attention on her part to figure it out, but eventually she did. And as she started to think of him as a friend, she recognized that he was becoming more receptive to her actions as well. She grew a little more open about calling his bluff when he became too cynical in the more trying times. She was able to bring his mind back to his right path if she caught the subtle hints that he was slipping. What's more, she was able to stop him dead in his tracks on rare occasions with her patent air of authority, forcing him to consider his own actions. She even stared him down once… just once. He still managed to surprise her often enough, but she felt she could read him as well as anyone – even more so with their intimate relationship deepening.

On the surface, Batman performing duties outside of the Justice League was not unusual. After all, he has Gotham to protect and he puts that first and foremost – he's never let anyone forget that. And he's done the odd jobs outside Gotham as well… in Blüdhaven, Metropolis, Japan, Kasnia… Mostly, these incidents had ties to his own activities back in Gotham, but he's been known to right a wrong regardless of when or where. So taken one by one, these extra missions were easy to dismiss.

Taking an odd job outside the League wasn't wrong. Purposely shifting assignments to keep his colleagues out of more dangerous situations could be viewed as selfless or even chivalrous. Some may say that his increased activity around the house was a refreshing change. A scan of the business sections in many newspapers would show that Wayne Enterprise stock was doing well – and many analysts were praising the actions of the CEO and President. Keeping secrets is not a sin. Each of these things seemed simple enough… from a certain point of view.

But from a different point of view…

To work on dozens of incidents outside of Gotham was very much out of character for him – and a subtle character change for Batman is really a major occurrence. Shifting assignments without consent was professionally insulting in many ways and to keep the others in the dark about it could be viewed as conspiratorial – even for him. Bruce knows the depth of Alfred's protective streak when it comes to the Manor and how much pride he takes in maintaining it – and to deny him that pleasure verged on disrespectful, if not condescending. For Bruce Wayne to suddenly vault Wayne Enterprises into a strong growth period when most competitive companies were stagnant was somewhat contradictory to the carefree, barely-competent-to-keep-the-company-profitable playboy image he had been carefully building for so many years. And to keep secrets from Diana _now_ was much more damning than it would have been two months ago.

The hardest part for her, she had only just figured out, was that she hadn't seen it coming. She hadn't seen a single hint that Batman had been taking on what amounted to easily ten times his normal workload. If anything, she'd think that he was actually becoming _less_ secretive around her, _less _obsessive and _less_ brooding. Bruce smiled more quickly. He played and joked. Not so much while as Batman, but even at those times, he flirted a little more daringly. In retrospect, all of these things were out of character for him, too… which only deepened the mystery.

But all personal feelings aside, security and professional issues within the League were a major concern – especially with Superman still unavailable. They'd all seen how The Boy Scout's absence had severely altered the mood around the Watchtower, let alone subtracted from the cohesion of the group. Could Batman be going his own way now? Without Superman/Clark around, was Batman/Bruce simply trying to compensate or was he starting to sever his ties with the League? They were just getting over the throes of losing their leader, how will the group respond as a whole when this becomes public?

Or was she just stewing on it all too much?

So many questions…

"With this new information that Nightwing gave you…" J'onn deadpanned.

"I know!" she snapped, not looking at him.

If she didn't feel so torn about Bruce, she would have felt bad for her rudeness to her friend. As it was, that little outburst didn't even register against her manners.

And J'onn didn't take offense from it, as he could sense the tension she radiated.

They sat in silence for a few moments, her contemplating their next move, him waiting for her to come around. When she didn't, he changed the subject.

"Superman called for an emergency meeting while you were gone. It is scheduled in a few hours. All members will be present."

Diana sat up and took notice. Feeling as she was, the last thing she needed was to be in a room with _everybody_ there At first it felt like her life was slipping out of the frying pan and dangling precariously over the fire. Then her common sense kicked in. Could she turn the situation around and use it for her own good? This news could be a blessing…

"It seems," J'onn continued, "that there has been some development in the investigation into the ACCORD incident and those behind it."

Diana's posture returned and her cool blue eyes drifted in thought. This might be a big enough diversion to buy them some more time…

'_Time for what?_' her internal warrior demanded. _'You're running from a fight!'_

Her rush of shame at the truth of that accusation ran deep.

So many things new things were thrust upon her recently that she found herself questioning her own mind more and more. Love, lust, betrayal, secrecy… Even her experience as an Ambassador hadn't prepared her for the politics and social and personal demands of her evolving life within the League. Her normal, black and white view on justice and conflict had melted to include countless shades of gray.

She didn't like the gray. At first, gray was confusing. She had only just figured out that gray could be viewed as black intruding on white or vice versa. It was that little difference in one's point of view that explained how so many people could justify their questionable actions. And her actions lately had been very questionable when viewed from her warrior's eyes.

'_You're not running,'_ a foreign voice sounded in her mind, _'you're weighing all your options and making sound, logical decisions.'_

At that she turned to her colleague and smiled warmly, thankfully. She took comfort in his reassurance that she was going about the situation in the right way.

J'onn nodded and smiled back.

* * *

Hawkgirl and Green Lantern were the last to arrive at the meeting, bickering as usual. Wally smiled at that fact. After they took their seats, they noticed Batman's absence. 

"I thought this was an All-Members meeting," Shayera said with a touch of bitterness in her voice.

"Batman reported that he is on an important assignment," J'onn announced for the approval of some and the relief of others.

Superman was there, which seemed both natural, yet out of place in some ways. He was dressed in his bright blue and red. Sitting to his right on an extra chair was Lois Lane, watching the proceedings wide-eyed and uncharacteristically silent.

"Thank you all for coming," he started, looking around.

The rest of the League nodded acknowledgement as he did.

"I requested this meeting because Lois and I have discovered something… well discovered isn't really the right word…"

He turned briefly towards his girlfriend, who shrugged innocently.

"Actually…" he sighed, "_Lex Luthor _has given us some information…"

Every body in the room shifted and every head turned to face the Man of Steel at the sound of that name.

"I think I better show you…"

With that, he inserted the CD into a console. The table and seats mechanically shifted to focus on the main projection screen that slowly lowered from the ceiling. The lights dimmed. Lex Luthor's bald-headed image appeared and the same introductory message played for the heroes as it had on Lois's computer. Everyone's attention was glued to the footage, including Flash – who showed a level of concentration rarely seen on his young face. Lantern took notes.

When the message was finished and the lights came up, nobody spoke as the room shifted back into meeting formation. All eyes were lost in contemplation. Eventually, Superman drew in a deep breath to break the silence.

"So," he began, "now I have some decisions to make and I'd like to ask you all for your input."

There was a fat pause before Lantern spoke.

"Have you followed up with any of this?"

"Not yet. Knowing Luthor, even the act of investigating could lead to a trap…"

"How can a _web search_ be a trap?" Hawkgirl asked incredulously. Lois silently nodded and looked imploringly at Superman.

"It's Luthor… _anything_ could be a trap."

"Uh, no offense Big Guy," Flash chimed in, "but aren't you being just a little paranoid?"

"Not when it comes to a person such as Lex Luthor," J'onn offered.

The discussions continued about the implications of the disc Luthor had sent to Lois. Everything was questioned, from Luthor's trustworthiness to the very existence of The Ultra Humanite. Ideas were shared and possible courses of action were offered, debated and ultimately dismissed.

Twenty minutes of fruitless talking later, the minds and tempers were getting hot and tired. Hawkgirl had taken to pacing and gripping her mace with disturbing emotion. Flash had tried to offer as many logical suggestions as he could, and to his own surprise he actually sounded mature about it. J'onn was as plain as ever and Diana had allowed her mind to release her thoughts of Bruce and concentrate on the situation at hand.

Until the sliding doors opened.

The black silhouette of the Dark Knight caught everybody's attention and silence dominated the room. He stepped quietly in and strode to his seat. He didn't greet a single person, nor did he even acknowledge Lois' presence. Before he sat, he took one last look around the room at the faces and body language of each member, except, for some reason, Diana. And she was the only one to catch that.

After his scan of his colleagues, he turned to the expectant face of Superman and finally spoke.

"Luthor?"

"Uh… yeah," the Man of Steel stammered. "How did you…"

"Who else would get the two of you up here," he nodded towards Lois, "to call an emergency meeting?"

Almost every face in the room showed some degree of amazement at the intuitive and deductive powers of the man in black standing before them. All except the beautiful face of Wonder Woman, who sighed, despite herself. The last thing she needed was reminder of how perceptive her lover was of the minutest details. It would only be a matter of time before she forced him to talk or he forced her…

"So," the deep baritone sounded as he finally took his seat, "What's he up to now?"

"Well," Superman started, looking around the room. "I could give you the brief run down or…"

"Actually, Superman," GL interrupted, "I think we all could benefit from seeing it again."

When all heads nodded in agreement (even Flash's), Superman acquiesced and the video file was played again. The room subsequently shifted back afterward and the lights came up. Batman was the first to speak.

"I want a copy of that disk…"

Before he finished, Lois pulled one out of her purse. It had a yellow sticky-note with "Batman" written on it in Clark's handwriting.

"I figured you would…" Superman said suppressing a smile – the only show of levity in the room for some time.

Batman took the disk, ignoring Superman's comment and Lois's expression and hid it under his cape somewhere.

"What have you discussed so far?"

Again, the fruitless debates commenced. Again, the pros and cons of various actions and non-actions were touched upon. The lists of arguments for and against were tallied and people made sure that they emphasized their points as clearly as possible. They agreed on many things, but also disagreed on others without being disagreeable. Mostly.

When it seemed like they had reached a recurring point for the third time, Superman took a leadership posture, as he had done so many times in the past, and ended the debate.

"I think," he started politely, yet solidly enough to secure the attention of the most powerful assembly in the world, "that we've covered about as many things as we can at this point. I asked you all for your opinions on the matter, it looks like you've all voiced them. Now, I'm going to have to make my decision based on…"

"_Your_ decision?!"

All eyes turned to Batman in surprise, confusion.

Clark's head snapped sharply towards his friend.

He wasn't going to let Batman's glare back him down on this. The others may have been involved with the incident when the ACCORDS attacked, but Luthor was HIS enemy. Batman may be unintentionally involved just as deeply, but Luthor was still HIS enemy. Despite the man's ability to schmooze the public and spin the facts to his advantage, Luthor was still HIS enemy. Such were the feelings of the Man of Steel and the depths of which were almost without description. Lex was more than an antagonist; he was a personal demon that regularly reminded Superman that evil exists.

Powers or not, Clark Kent was not about to let anybody face Lex Luthor for him.

"Yes, _my_ decision" Superman responded confidently, swiveling his chair towards his accuser and leaning back.

"This is a _Justice League_ situation now, not a Superman situation," Batman retorted, showing no signs of giving Clark any wiggle room in the debate.

"This is _LEX LUTHOR,_" Superman enunciated, leaning forward and punctuating each word by jabbing his finger on the tabletop. "You don't _know_ him like _I_ do. He specifically sent this disc to Lois with the intention that it get to _ME_. That _Achilles Device _was intended to be used on _ME._ He specifically wanted _ME_ to know…"

Clark stopped mid-sentence as if hit by lightning. His posture grew upright and rock solid. He had come to the same conclusion Batman had, although it took a few minutes longer. His face drooped into an expression of amazement that he had missed it before.

"That's right," Batman sounded off calmly. "He specifically… wanted… _you._"

* * *

Not long after Delores Winters and Lex Luthor met for the first time, Clayface's cooperation in tests and other small 'activities' had dwindled. His attitude grew steadily more resistive to the little 'jobs' that Dr. Ultra had been assigning him and he had become more impatient with the medical tests that were constantly performed (or 'staged' as he had been over heard saying) for his supposed benefit. It had gotten to the point where his presence was akin to that of a disgruntled employee. 

Lex caught the attitude change immediately since he had expected it. His impression of Delores set off alarms in his mind that she didn't trust him, along with the fact that she had a very strong influence on Matt's behavior. He expected professional tension after that meeting, maybe even personal dislike. But he did not expect the degree of rebellion the young thief started showing right away.

When he walked into the medical labs to check on the so-called progress and witnessed how the heated tempers grew into a confrontation between Clayface and an innocent technician asking for another 'skin' sample, he recognized that a complete breakdown of their confederacy would be immanent if steps weren't taken to clear the air. He also knew that Dr. Ultra would be just as capable of noticing the same developments and take steps first. If that happened, Lex could be the odd man out and find himself cleaning up an awful lot of the others' mess.

He knew that in the long run, he was in a delicate balance with the Ultra Humanite and if something tipped that balance, it would be an all-out war. The one with Clayface on their side would have the clear advantage.

On a gray and dreary evening, while he sat alone in his office, he mulled over the situation over a fine cigar and cognac.

Dr. Ultra was insane, of that he had no doubt. The man's priorities were bewildering to say the least. He seemed to prize knowledge and power, but would succumb to flattery of his intellect so easily that he could be manipulated by it. He tried so desperately to immerse himself in what he considered the finer parts of human culture – music, literature, theater. His tastes were simplistic enough to suggest that he had only just begun to enjoy these arts, and that he might be doing it more for appearances' sake than for his own pleasure.

He wanted ultimate power, and had at one point in time gone head-to-head with The Man of Steel over it. It seemed that his focus has shifted to exacting revenge on Superman, rather than overcoming him. It was a fanatical obsession; blinding him to some things while making him more acute to others.

Lex sat and thought and analyzed while a blue/gray cloud of aromatic cigar smoke encircled his shiny head. His eyes staring at nothing, yet seeing a clear plan at ways to make him come out on top… as well as look squeaky-clean doing it.

The first step would be to get Clayface in his corner. It didn't take long to figure out that Delores would be the key to that. All he would have to do is scare the daylights out of her with one hand and offer a solution with the other. A simple phone call would demonstrate the far-reaching tentacles of Lex Luthor's influence on any life he wanted to crush. After the sinking feeling of despair was firmly in place, Lex would invite the two young lovers in for a meeting, show them that he's not a bad guy – just an important business man trying to do important business. He would even include them in on his plan and save them from the peril that, in reality, he had actually put them in.

The next step would be to absolve himself with regards to the Achilles Device and any run-ins with the Justice League. Humanite had already done much of the hard work when he arranged for the ACCORD hijacking to be staged without of any LuthorCorp involvement. He had also constructed the weapon using equipment from other manufacturers, leaving LuthorCorp, and more importantly, Lex himself, free from any connections. Basically, Dr. Ultra had worked independently and had conveniently made sure that it was obvious that he did so.

'_It seems'_ Lex thought as he sipped from his antique cut crystal tumbler, _'that the good doctor has done an excellent job of setting himself up for me!'_

To further his plans, he would need to take a bold step. It would be into uncharted waters, as far as he was concerned, but it was necessary to make sure that he would stay afloat no matter who else sank in the coming storms. He needed to work _with _the Justice League in bringing down The Ultra Humanite, if necessary. Or at least make it _look_ like he was.

Even larger than the three-way battle involving himself, Dr. Ultra and Clayface, was the three-way battle between himself, Dr. Ultra and the Justice League. With Lex's help, it was possible that the mad scientist may actually succeed in acquiring Superman's body – for whatever reason he needed it. But at what cost? And what would be the final result if the world were finally free of Superman and his cohorts, but had to deal with a super-powered twisted genius?

_No… better the devil you know than the devil you don't._

Lex knows Superman. He may not know a lot of things about him, but he knows enough to basically count on some things. And the more he deals with him, the more he learns. While he doesn't believe it to be true, he had to admit that Superman hadn't _shown_ any designs on ruling the world with his team of costumed commandos. The Justice League isn't so much competition as it is an obstacle. A fully-empowered Ultra Humanite isn't so simple.

It was fairly easy for Lex to cross out dealing with Dr. Ultra and keep Superman all to himself.

Lex had made his conclusions on the progression he needed to affect. It was simple, really. Get the scrumptious Ms. Winters on his side and Clayface will follow. With Clayface on his side, he can look like a viable opponent to a rogue madman, which, in turn, will allow him to appear like the good guy. If that wasn't enough to get the Justice League on his side, then he'd simply back away and let them eliminate Dr. Ultra for him. Whatever was left would be easy for an unscathed Lex Luthor to destroy and be free and clear to achieve all he wanted.

It was almost too easy…

It wasn't hard for Lex, with all his vast resources, to find out that Delores' agent was a person of consequence. She 'moonlighted' with Dr. Ultra and that's how he heard about Matt and his alternate ego of Clayface. A little more digging unearthed a few more shady characters in Del's past or present, although there was very little dirt on her record to speak of. It was weak information by itself, but combined with Matt's own history around Gotham, Lex was able to paint a picture of doom and gloom for the two if the wrong people took notice of them. He didn't threaten her directly, per se, but simply pointed out some observations and took on the position of a concerned partner.

At first, Delores was outwardly defiant of any danger. She brushed off each mention of guilt by association and minor law bending. When Lex started bringing up stronger points, she played them off as if Matt can handle any situation. After all, the mighty Batman hadn't been able to put him away.

Finally, Lex dropped the bomb about her agent; a fact she had not known. The fat pause before she responded told him that he had hit a nerve. And as good of an actress as she was, she didn't have it in her to hide how betrayed she felt by a person that she considered a good friend. To make it such that The Ultra Humanite and Clayface would team up wasn't the sin to Delores, it was keeping the fact from her that was so damnable.

Lex fanned the flames of that betrayed feeling. He slowly, methodically talked her into his will. He asked all the proper questions at the proper times with the proper tone of voice to gradually twist Delores' world such that nobody could be trusted anymore. Her own record was clean, but that wouldn't prevent some people from blemishing it for her and she'd wind up paying the price. Her charms and sex appeal could make for interesting times in prison. The mob bosses in Gotham would find work for a woman with her figure and beauty. She and Matt may not be in too deep at the moment, but with his abilities, the jobs would come in and _she_ would be the leverage that people would use to make him perform. If they weren't too deep now, they soon would be.

By the end of the conversation, she was scared to death.

And Lex was the only way out for her and her fiancé.

That was when he offered to meet with the two and discuss 'other options'.

* * *

The elevator doors opened smoothly. The bright, shiny marble floor echoed as the young couple walked together down the hall to the open area reception room. There were no other visitors waiting. 

Mercy Grave's lithe hand slyly moved from under her desk and back to her computer keyboard. A second earlier she had been gripping the pistol hidden there – just in case. The sculpted features of her face would have looked beautiful if they weren't sporting such a serious expression. Silently, she nodded at the two visitors and the automatic wooden doors behind her bloomed open to allow them to enter Lex's office.

"So nice to see you again so soon, Ms. Winters," Lex said smoothly, rising to his feet. He allowed his gaze to appreciate her charms a second longer than was polite before he nodded acknowledgment to her fiancé. "Matt, good to see you, too."

The two silently nodded and half smiled out of courtesy, although neither one felt like being civil at the moment. For all their previous certainty, they looked now like children called out for a spanking. They stole a glance at each other uneasily before accepting Lex's offer to have a seat. Only after they appeared comfortable did their host return to his.

"Thank you, both, for coming."

The deep, warm sound of the heavy doors closing was signal enough for Clayface to relax from his appearance of an unassuming twenty-something adult back to his grotesque natural state.

"I have to admit," Lex started, "I normally don't suffer renegotiations. I believe a man should live up to his word…"

The stern look he showed and his attempt at a harsh fatherly tone of voice caused Del to shift in her seat. If Clayface had any emotional response, it was hard to read.

"However," Lex continued more brightly, sitting back in his chair, "things aren't very normal in our situation, are they? We've started a relationship based on an understanding, but it seems that this understanding was born from false pretenses."

The measured pause in his monologue was long enough for the severity of his statement to sink into the worrying minds of the two actors. All parties knew that the situation was more complex than he simply spelled out, but there was no use in acknowledging any more than that at this point.

Lex stood up and turned to look out his window at the darkening Metropolis landscape. His hands joined behind his back and he took a deep breath before continuing.

"Don't worry," he said looking over his shoulder back towards them, almost sounding sincere. "I don't hold either of you responsible."

The young woman's eyes and posture relaxed a little as a slight sigh escaped her lips. Sitting in Lex's presence again was now much more intimidating than it had been the last time. His office now was possibly the most uncomfortable environment she had ever been in and she had a sinking feeling that trying to deal with Lex Luthor was like dealing with the devil himself. She and Matt had gotten in way over their heads.

"The way I see it, Dr. Ultra played us both, Matt," Lex continued, looking away from his guests and back out the window. "He needed my resources and your abilities for his own means. He made claims about the benefits we would enjoy, should we help him, and he made promises that, frankly, I don't believe he can keep."

Lex turned his head to make sure his blunt statements were having the desired effects. The silence of the two young actors was evidence enough, but the expressions confirmed that he was being understood, and, more importantly, believed.

"Soooo," he turned and sat on the corner of his desk, "That leaves the three of us together in a situation that is somewhat less than ideal, doesn't it?"

Delores and Clayface didn't move. They just let Lex continue.

"I believe we can turn the tables on the good doctor and eventually come out on top."

Without warning, Mercy uncharacteristically went against Lex's orders and barged into the office interrupting their meeting. She had just cause and Lex was very forgiving when he found out that she was delivering a very urgent message: The Justice League wanted to meet with him. They wanted to know more about the information on computer disc he had sent to Lois Lane, the Achilles Device and The Ultra Humanite.

Lex was absolutely dumbfounded. He quickly turned towards the city skyline before the others in his office took notice of how unprepared he was for that news.

'_They actually want to _meet_ with me?' _he pondered. _'They're either incredibly foolish, or… incredibly brilliant…'_

Until he knew the answer to that, he would err on the side of caution. His phenomenal mind needed a little time to process – alone.

Turning back to Matt, Del and Mercy he donned his most pleased smile and exclaimed what good news it was – much to Mercy's confusion. He quickly pulled five hundred dollars out of his wallet and thrust it at Matt with the instructions that he take Delores out for a complete makeover and new outfit. He instructed Mercy to make an appointment for her at one of the most exclusive salons in Metropolis.

"Matt, you can take care of your own appearance," Lex pointed out lightheartedly. "And Delores, you're such a fine looking young woman… let's make sure you look your _best_ when you meet the Justice League tonight!"

He dropped a few more instructions for Mercy to confirm the time of the meeting and to make sure security was in place throughout the building as well as the availability of all the amenities he normally uses when hosting other CEO's, dignitaries and even the occasional politician or member of royalty. In front of the three, he floated about excitedly as his mind raced in order to make this a world-class affair. Within minutes, he was quickly ushering them out of his office with a smile and a happy voice.

When the doors closed, however, the room turned sour.

His face grew as dark as his gray suit. He muttered as he strode back to his desk and started typing away furiously at his computer.

'_Just what are you up to, alien?'_

* * *

**AN: Hey all. If you've been following along, then you already know what I do at the end of the chapters. I thank you for reading and I thank you even more for your reviews and feedback. I also reply to anon reviews, but I have none to reply to now.****SO... I'd like to take this time to thank my new beta: Kipling-Nori. Without being asked, she graciously offered her services, and I readily took her up on it. I'm sure by now she's regretting it because she's been mercilessly forced to review my rambling chapters and point out the spelling and grammatical errors that so bug us all to no end. She's been a great sounding board to my ideas and has given me incredible feedback. Thanks again, Amiga!**


	18. Chapter 18: Enemies, Part II

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 18: Enemies Part II

The fat man in the dark blue uniform sat in a cheap rolling chair, stirring his coffee. The monitors cycled through different views of the LuthorCorp building, filling the tiny dark room with their glow. The warm, stale air was made even more unsavory by the stench of cheap coffee and bad hygiene. He turned to his younger, more junior colleague.

"You don't really believe it, do you?" he asked condescendingly, reaching for his powdered donut.

"I heard the order came all the way from Ms. Graves…" the newer security guard answered, "so, yeah… I do."

"Kid," the fat one continued arrogantly, stuffing a bite into his mouth, not bothering to wipe the white sugar off his mustache, "you'll learn. We don't get orders straight from Luthor's tart – she gives 'em to the shift supervisors. And you been listenin' to the wrong gossip, rookie. For years there been rumors flyin' around 'bout Luthor and Superman and the Justice League… I don't listen to none of it."

He took another bite.

The younger man didn't listen to the 'old pro', but kept an eye on his monitors and took his logs. He cycled through the camera channels and stopped when something odd caught his eye on the roof. For a calm night, there seemed to be a very large wind whipping dust and what-not around. A strange glow seemed to radiate down onto the helicopter pad from above – out of range of the image.

"I ain't seen nothin' in my time here," the fat one continued, "that tells me the press has it all wrong. Those freaks up there are trying to take down a legitimate business man, just 'cause he don't fall in line when they snap their fingers."

He took the last bite of his snack and finished talking with crumbs and all.

"_Justice League!" _he scoffed. "They got no reason to come here and they ain't gonna…"

On the security monitor, the glow grew brighter and the eerie shape of the Javelin lowered into the security camera's range.

"Well, old timer," the young man smirked triumphantly, "I guess they _are_ _gonna!_"

"Holy… jeeze!" the fat security guard lunged towards the radio. "Attention all units, report to the roof on the double. They're… they're _HERE!_"

Before he finished his announcement, the craft touched down effortlessly in the middle of the circled "H" on the roof of the LuthorCorp building. Within seconds, the mounting platform lowered from the underbelly and four of the heroes descended into view.

"I guess sometimes _Luthor's tart_ is right after all," a calm, deep, sultry voice sounded behind the fat guard.

His wobbly body visibly tensed and he clamped his eyes painfully shut at the sound of Mercy's rebuke. He didn't dare turn around to face her. His more inexperienced partner jumped to attention.

Mercy kept her fiery stare locked on the fat man's bald spot for another second, a fist planted firmly on her trim hip. She glanced and nodded curtly towards the junior guard and briskly left with a parting command.

"Belay your last order. The top three floors of the building are to remain vacant until our guests leave."

* * *

Lex finished straightening the tie under his cleanly-shaven chin, half smiling to himself in the mirror as he did. The situation would be tense if the absurdity of it didn't make him laugh inside.

The Justice League meeting with Lex Luthor…

He stepped out of his ornate bathroom into his office. The lighting was adjusted to a pleasant level consistent with personal entertainment rather than business dealings. There was a spread of fine hors devours and drinks for offer. Classical music selections were queued on the sound system and ready to play at Lex's command. Professionally prepared binders containing selective information about the Achilles Device and The Ultra Humanite were laying on the meeting table, along with sweating pitchers of ice water glasses, note pads, LuthorCorp pens… even fresh flowers.

Lex checked his cuff links and took one last glance around the room to make sure all was in order.

His eyes finally stopped on an attractively dressed Delores Winters. She was a vision, despite her nervousness. Her fiancé Matt Hagen, in human form and 'wearing' a fine suit, stood by her side doing his best to look like he belonged.

"They'll be here any moment," Lex smiled easily, crossing his arms and turning towards the doors.

The two nodded in understanding; Lex would do all the talking.

Within seconds, the doors swung open and Mercy, in her smart yet daringly short miniskirt and jacket led in the stern looking guests. Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl and Superman entered in order and stopped as if in formation. All four seemed visibly tense, with heightened awareness to their surroundings.

Mercy stood by, eyeing the foursome uneasily, then turned to Lex for further instructions.

"Thank you, Mercy," Lex offered politely.

Nodding curtly, she stole one last look at the heroes, lingering longest on Superman, then left.

The confidence on Lex's face was unshakable, even under the scrutinizing glare of four of the most physically imposing people on Earth. His eyes glided from one to the other for a few seconds while the young acting couple stood silently behind to his left. Finally he spoke.

"If anybody had told me," he started as if telling a story, his face falling expressionless, "that the members of the Justice League… especially _you_…" he nodded towards Superman, " would one day attend a meeting in my office… I would have had them committed!"

The tension of the moment crawled on for an unbearable second.

Then Lex laughed warmly, shaking his head. His whole demeanor shifted. His posture relaxed, his smile seemed genuine – as if he were bumping into an old, dear friend. To some, the tension in the room suddenly felt misplaced. To one, it was heightened.

"Welcome!" he smiled.

In a very informal manner, Lex crossed the room with light steps and extended his hand towards Flash, the guest standing closest to the meeting table.

"Good to see you, Flash," he said in the nicest possible tone, looking the bewildered youngster in the eye. "Welcome!"

The Scarlet Speedster paused for a second. He fought the instinct to look to GL for guidance, understanding that any show of indecision could and would be a neon sign to Lex Luthor as a confession of weakness. With all the dignity he could muster, he silently straightened up, gave a twisted nod and firmly took Lex's hand.

Lantern and Hawkgirl were taken aback almost as much as Flash, but inwardly they applauded the strength the younger hero showed when faced with the disarming smile of an enemy. Superman, however never dropped his glare.

"Please," Lex offered cordially, extending his arm towards the luxurious chairs around the long, mahogany meeting table at the side of the office. He graciously directed his guests to make themselves comfortable and kept his smile pleasantly in place as they filed by him, one by one.

Slowly, still uncertain as to whether they should be concerned or not, the four members took random seats around the long, rectangular table. Random seats – except for Superman, who took the chair exactly opposite of Lex's. As they did, Lex spoke of his other guests.

"I'd like to introduce you all to my associates; Matt Hagen and his fiancé Delores Winters," he continued as the two hesitantly took seats to his right. "Matt has a more commonly-known alias of… _Clayface_."

He recited the nom de plume as if he were pleased he could remember it without help. He even looked at Matt fishing for acknowledgment. Matt glanced sideways at him and gave a slow head nod of confirmation.

"Matt, Delores," Lex continued, "I think you may recognize our visitors, but for formality's sake, let me introduce them…"

Still standing, he motioned to each Leaguer in turn, stating their name, some of their characteristics or powers and a mention of past feats or deeds. He saved Superman for last.

"… and finally, _The Man of Steel, _himself," he announced locking eyes with his opposite number in (what appeared to be) the most non-confrontational way and slowly sinking into his chair, "Superman! I could tell you all about his exploits, but the man certainly needs no introduction from me!"

The whole affair was Lex's show and he was playing the perfect host. He was doing a magnificent job at laying out the facts of the introduction without dropping a single hint that he had battled the League as a whole and these individuals on a one-on-one basis in the past. To an outsider, it looked as if there was no history of conflict at all between those present. The moment was indeed his and so far, nobody was prepared to show him up until he tipped his hand – but that didn't seem likely.

"Now, I'm sure you know," he resumed, addressing the heroes, "Matt here has somewhat of a shady history in Gotham. In fact, I'm surprised that _Batman_ isn't here with you…"

He paused, his eyes darting from face to face. When Lantern shook his head slightly in confirmation that Batman wouldn't join them, he continued.

"Ah, well," he reclined in his high-backed chair, "never the less… Matt has an unusual ability in that he can…"

"We know what Clayface is capable of," Superman declared strongly.

"Of course," Lex smiled. "But are you aware of the _motives_ behind his past transgressions? Motives that may explain his sordid past?"

"Motives?" Hawkgirl challenged as if the word were impolite. "Robbery, theft, assault… from what I understand greed isn't much of an explanation…"

"Right, as usual, Hawkgirl," Lex interrupted. "Absolutely right… and blunt as always. However, allow me to continue if I may… You see, Matt's _condition_ is the result of an _accident_. He didn't _want_ to become Clayface. In fact, he's been searching for a cure for some time now. Searching in vane, really. There is only one chemical in the world that has shown any promise of helping him… it's quite expensive and there's only one company that produces it."

Lex paused a measured moment to allow a hint of compassion to sink in. Their faces didn't show any signs of softening, but Lex was acute enough to recognize that the body language of his four guests didn't indicate that they were immune to sympathy. When he was sure he caught no signs of disbelief, he continued.

"Those thefts and such that you mentioned are simply the desperate acts of a man at his rope's end. If he could only find a way…"

"From what I understand," Green Lantern chimed in, "The Wayne Foundation offered to help you find treatment."

"The _Wayne_ Foundation?" Lex asked turning to Matt for clarification. It was clear from his reaction that this was news to him.

"They couldn't help me," Matt weakly protested, deliberately looking at nobody.

For a moment, it looked like Lex was at a loss for the first time of the meeting. He quickly recovered.

"Well, as it stands right now," he said sitting up, "LuthorCorp is trying to help our friend, here. Let's all hope that this is one time when Metropolis' favorite billionaire succeeds where Gotham's did not."

"We didn't come down here to talk about your philanthropy, Luthor," Superman accused, his hard stare never wavering.

"Quite right!" Lex agreed brightly, shaking his head as if he had forgotten something. "You're absolutely, right… What you DID come down here for… well, actually, let me ask you a question; you mentioned that Lois Lane had contacted you about a computer disc I sent her… did you, by chance, happen to view the contents of that disk?"

Superman nodded.

"So, you saw the information on the Achilles Device?"

Nod.

"And were you able to find anything on the Ultra Humanite… Dr. Ultra?"

There was a pause. Flash glanced at Superman.

"I remember him," Superman said carefully.

"By remember…" Lex prodded, "you mean you remember your confrontation with him that put him in his wheelchair?"

Again, there was an uncomfortable pause. Superman sighed.

"What's your point, Lex?"

"Well, to be perfectly forthcoming, he has told me very little about himself. Only that he holds you responsible for his invalid condition and failing health. He seems dead-set on taking you down."

"He does, huh?" Hawkgirl mocked, in a 'pot/kettle' tone of voice.

"Yes, he does," Lex responded matter-of-factly. "In fact, he approached Matt, here… and myself to help him do it."

"And I'm sure you wanted _nothing_ to do with it," Flash spouted sarcastically.

"Flash," Lex returned as if talking to an upstart teen, "I'm a businessman, first and foremost. Sometimes business makes for strange bedfellows. I listened to him, yes. But I think that I've proven my intentions by delivering the data on that computer disc as well as agreeing to meet with you here this evening."

There was no response from any of the others at the table. Lantern audibly drew in a deep breath through his nose.

"Oh," Lex resumed as if he discovered something. "You… don't believe that I'm trying to _do the right thing…_"

"No," Lantern's deep voice stated clearly.

"Well you're right," Lex smiled cunningly "I'm not…"

* * *

Dick Grayson walked silently down the cold stairs into the Batcave. He knew Alfred was nowhere on the Manor grounds, but what he didn't know was the whereabouts of the Bat.

When he was younger, it had taken a long time to not get shivers down his spine whenever he ventured into the cave. He knew enough, then, to not touch anything, but still made that mistake on occasion. Eventually, he learned about all the equipment, the weapons, the chambers. He learned the significance of all the objects on display and even helped to secure more of them over the years. It wasn't too long after he felt completely comfortable, alone in the dark caverns below the Manor, that he stopped seeing his mentor as an omnipotent, unshakable hero and started seeing Batman as a twisted, shadowy alternate personality of a confused and stubborn Bruce. Until that point, Batman and Bruce were still two completely separate people to his young mind.

Dick proceeded slowly. The cave seemed empty, but then again, there were countless times when he had assumed it was, only to be surprised. It was always cold and dark, even when there was much activity, but as he stepped off the bottom stair, he saw that there were no signs of any human activity going on. There were some machines running automatically and others in standby mode. He continued carefully past the main terminals, past the vault with his old Robin costume, and towards the armory. The Batmobile was still in it's usual place.

There was no reason to be so cautious, he reasoned. If Batman were working down there, he wouldn't be able to sneak up on him. If the cave was empty, walking slowly and silently would be a waste of effort. When logic was used, Dick couldn't explain to himself why he was deliberately taking light steps and controlled breaths. He just couldn't seem to shake that feeling that he was someplace he shouldn't be.

He took a lap around the major areas of the cave, taking in all that he could, noting things that had changed since his last visit a few weeks ago. There was nothing very different to speak of… maybe some of the research equipment had been rearranged with use… some of the work out equipment had been moved about. But all in all, it seemed like the same old Batcave.

Finally letting his trepidation slip away, and remembering that Bruce or no Bruce, he was not an intruder here, but still a member of the family as well as 'the family'. Huffing out a sigh, he plopped down in the large chair by the main console and, slouching with horrendous posture, swiveled towards the keypad.

The large monitor showed black with a dark red Bat insignia. He struck a few keys on the keyboard to wake the system back up. It was clear that the massive computers were in the middle running some sort of analysis, but he was still able to do some work without interrupting.

'_There's no harm in looking,'_ he thought as he nosed through some folders here and a few common files there.

He checked a few email accounts, looked in on some case notes that he had asked Bruce to help with from the Bludhaven PD files. It hadn't been more than a few minutes when the screens all around him started flashing wildly. Instinctively, Dick's hands flew away from the keyboard and he rolled the chair away from the workstation. At first, he thought that it was the finishing results of the analysis that was running. As he watched screen after screen of data and information blazed by, he realized that he was witnessing something that shouldn't be happening.

_What the…?_

He gingerly reached forward and pressed the 'abort' key.

Nothing.

_Oh, shit…_

He tried typing a few commands and got no signs from the monitors that his commands were received.

_Oh SHIT! What the $#& is goin' on here?!_

He started pounding away at the keyboard furiously, trying command after command. He tried overrides. He tried lock and unlock key combinations.

No response.

But still the screens continued to blaze away. Seconds seemed like hours as Dick's quick eyes saw glimpses of screens and files that stored sensitive data. Whatever was going on, it surely wasn't supposed to be happening. He started questioning his reliance of Batman's security protocols. This was getting serious.

As a last ditch effort, he dashed across the cave towards the main breaker panel. If he hurried, he might be able to shut down power and trip the emergency breakers before anything catastrophic happened.

He made it to the panel and threw open the metal door. With the utmost urgency, he scanned down the rows and rows of switches. Any 'normal' person would have panicked by now and just thrown the main breaker out of sheer desperation, but Dick Grayson had the one-in-a-million kind of quality that helped him keep a cool head in dire emergencies like this. He had just grabbed the right breaker and turned his head back towards the spasmodic computer monitors when he saw all the commotion stop as suddenly as it started.

Reflexively, his hand jerked away from the breaker.

Turning on his heel, he started cautiously back towards the computer terminals. He checked all the shadows of the cave for anything out of the ordinary as he walked slowly, alertly across the cold floor. By the time he got half way there, the main screen brought up a command window with a simple message:

"Virus found on disk"

* * *

In the Watchtower…

It was a quick but necessary coffee break, and Wonder Woman was returning to the Monitor Womb to rejoin J'onn. They had been tasked to monitor their colleague's com links during the entire meeting with Lex Luthor. When the door slid open, she found the Martian in mid-sentence, discussing something on a secure line.

"… is for official Justice League communications. I must ask you to please not use this line again."

"This is _an emergency!_ I need to get a hold of Batman _immediately!_ There has been a potential security breach in the Batcave…"

Diana immediately recognized Nightwing's voice as well as the urgency of his tone. She hurried to the workstation next to J'onn and picked up a headset.

"Nightwing, it's Diana," she interrupted as calmly as she could. "Batman's not available at the moment. What can we do to help?"

J'onn looked over his shoulder at her quizzically. In a flash, she mentally projected the acceptability of working with Nightwing, even though he wasn't a League member.

"Diana… thank God… I'm looking for Batman and I can't find him – he's not answering my transmissions. I'm not sure exactly what he had going on down here, but it looks like he was analyzing the contents of some kind of computer disk and the whole place started going haywire. I almost had to pull the plug to shut the system down. I think the disk had some kind of virus encryption and the analysis software was able to find it and neutralize it before anything bad happened… but I'm not sure."

"I understand. Stand by."

Switching the com line to 'mute', she turned to her friend.

"I think Batman may have been analyzing the copy of Lex Luthor's disk"

"If his copy has some sort of virus, then that could mean that the original is unsafe as well," J'onn observed.

Diana nodded as she switched the com line back on.

"Nightwing, I think he may have been trying to look at the information on a copy of a CD that Superman received from Lex Luthor. If he…"

"_LEX LUTHOR!"_ Dick all but shouted.

"Yes."

"_You gotta be…_ Alright… alright," Dick's voice dropped from frantic to cool, "If Batman has a _copy_, then it's a good bet to say that Superman's disk has the virus as well."

"I agree," J'onn observed. "But why would the computers in the Batcave find a virus when those on the Watchtower would not? We have the most advanced machines on the…"

"Second most advanced," Dick corrected.

There was a brief pause while the two League heroes contemplated that statement. They didn't dwell on it too long, however; there would be plenty of time for that later.

"So the Watchtower could be infected right now…" Diana theorized.

"Yes," J'onn said sullenly.

Dick's voice took on an air of authority.

"OK, you've probably got about 3 minutes… Isolate any machines that have run the disk. And I mean ISOLATE – don't just deactivate the communications protocols, you gotta _physically_ disconnect any lines or cables… even the powerlines."

"I will go!" J'onn phased through the floor on his way to the conference room while Dick continued.

"Diana, you're going to have to start an immediate system-wide diagnostic."

Her fingers were typing before he even started. Within seconds the Watchtower systems were in the throws self-analysis.

"Have you seen anything out of the ordinary since you first ran the CD?" Dick asked with a softer voice more akin to a doctor during a physical than a prodigy of The Dark Knight.

"No. Nothing."

"With any luck, we may catch it before anything bad happens. But just in case, you better get a hold of Batman. Where is he?"

"Metropolis."

* * *

"The _right thing_," Lex Luthor explained, "would include arresting Dr. Ultra, holding him for trial and sentencing… and that takes a little too long for my patience."

His face hardened into deep seriousness and his eyes all but challenged anybody to oppose him. Superman accepted that challenge.

"And yet, that's exactly what's going to happen," Superman announced. "The Ultra Humanite… and anyone found aiding him… will be brought to justice. THAT I can promise you."

Superman's open-ended inclusion all but accused Lex of being an accessory to whatever charges were filed against the scientist. He locked eyes with his bald host the entire time he made his statement.

Lex took it in stride, although his own associates seemed to wither ever so slightly at the power of the declaration.

"Oh, I'm not against serving justice," Lex offered, raising his hands. "But you and I both know how easily a person with unlimited intelligence and resources can beat the system. Why, even catching him red-handed won't secure a conviction in court these days – especially when those doing the catching are non-sanctioned vigilante groups."

The impenetrable stare down continued between the two powerful men at opposite ends of the table. The other Leaguers had taken obvious offense at the insult thrown their way, but not nearly as seriously as Superman. Whatever lightness Lex had tried to swing into the room's mood just a few minutes ago was clearly gone and the meeting was slipping into a downward spiral.

"Ok, look," Flash interrupted, dropping a fist on the table to secure attention. "Whatever is going on here, it seems that we all have something to lose if this Ultra guy succeeds in his plans. Not only that, but it looks like the world would be a better place if he were behind bars. We gotta bring him down, but we gotta do it _legally_ or else he'll be right back on the street, trying again."

"That's right," Shayera agreed, hoping that another voice of reason might bring all the people at the table back to the topic at hand.

"So, what do you suggest, _Lex?_" Superman challenged.

The change in Luthor's demeanor was obvious. He relaxed and even seemed to grow a hint of a smile.

"We take him by surprise."

"And I suppose you have a plan on how to do that…" Shayera chimed in.

"Of course," Lex grinned. "He wants to capture Superman…"

He turned to look at Clayface before continuing.

"I say we let him."

* * *

**AN: And here we are again, at the end of yet another chapter… so long in coming – I thank you for your patience!**

**Thanks again to all of you that read this story… I hope you're enjoying it. Special thanks to KN for being an awesome Beta and sounding board. And an extra-special thanks to all you reviewers out there! I love hearing from you! I try to reply personally to everybody, but if you post without a return reply, then read below…**

**To: E**

**Thanks for reading and taking the time to post a review. I try to imagine each character in my head and type what I 'hear'. I'm sure every author does this, so it's no big secret. But since you dropped a nice compliment on me about this, I guess I must be doing something right! Thanks again.**

**To tkharmonic:**

**I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying the story. I know it's long and for those that are just starting to read it – I hope it's not so long that it becomes a bother. As far as the whole Batman/Nightwing dynamic… while I reserve the right to make people as two-dimensional and stereotypical as I please at times, I try to avoid that and add some depth. I think that a big reason that people are drawn to these characters is because there's a little piece of them in each of us to one degree or another. In that sense, I can relate to both sides of every relationship – to a point. I simply can't believe that Batman IS as cold as he seems to be. Oh, there's some ice in his veins – that's for sure, but a person that cold would have gotten over his parents' murder in a week, y'know? There's GOTTA be some feeling inside that shell! Well, thanks for reading & reviewing! PS: Sorry to hear about your butt.**


	19. Chapter 19: Conspiring

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 19: Conspiring 

The sounds of the keystrokes echoed throughout the cave as Dick's fingers flew over the keyboard. He had been working feverishly to figure out what it was that the powerful computers had found on Batman's copy of the disk that Lex Luthor supplied to Superman. He was reverse engineering the results of the analysis that he had basically walked in.

"He'd started with a routine check…" he mumbled out loud.

"What was that?" Diana's voice cracked in his ear over his earpiece.

"Oh, uh… I was just talking to myself," he confessed as he continued to scan the data.

Within a few minutes, he had been able to piece together some vital information. Taking an extra few minutes to verify his findings, he filled Diana and J'onn in on the results.

"OK," he sighed, "I think I know what's going on… The reason that your computers didn't find the virus is because it doesn't exist on your disk. In fact it didn't exist on Batman's disk either until recently."

He paused as he filtered through a few more frames of data on the huge screen in front of him.

"It looks like the virus actually wrote itself after a specific date and time… not an unusual technique, but this one was hidden really well!"

"So, you're saying that there were items on the disk that _created_ the virus on cue?" J'onn asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Dick responded, rubbing his eyes and leaning back. "Bru… Batman had artificially accelerated the clocks on the computers in the Batcave. Basically, as far as the virus was concerned, these computers were running in the future. When the applications on the disk recognized that it was… uh… 4:30 pm tomorrow, to be precise… then the virus was generated and it took over the computer."

"Dick," Diana's sweet voice sounded, "Can you tell what the virus was attempting to do? Was it siphoning data, or erasing files?"

"I'm not sure," Dick responded carefully as he resumed typing and searching. "It looks like it was searching for something special… system control commands maybe… I gotta contact that I want to bring in to help me sort all this crap out...

"Say 'hi' to Oracle for me," Diana requested, her smile reflected in her voice.

"Will do," Dick replied, allowing a slight smile as well. "In the mean time, if you could find Batman for me, I would appreciate it."

"It will be some time," J'onn confided, "but we will inform him as soon as he becomes available."

"Thanks. Nightwing out."

Dick sighed as he finished organizing the files and diagnostic reports on the computers around him. Within a few minutes he was done and he finally allowed himself a moment of quiet recovery. Considering what to eat as he climbed the stairs back towards the Manor, he waited for the grandfather clock to secure behind him before he pulled out his cell phone and selected the appropriate number.

'_She ought to be home now…'_

* * *

"I still don't get it," Flash admitted. "I know he's a super-genius or whatever, but the guy's in a wheelchair and is getting sicker by the day… I still don't understand what it is he thinks he can do to us. What's he got that we should be so afraid of?" 

"Well, Flash," Lex started, somewhat condescendingly, "I'm sure you already know that power doesn't always come from muscles or superhuman abilities. There's an old saying that 'Knowledge _is_ Power'…"

"Yeah, I know that!" Flash interrupted, growing more and more weary of his host's attitude towards him. "But the smartest brain in the world can't do anything without being able to move around and… _interact_ with stuff."

"Don't forget that this guy's got a lot of resources available," Hawkgirl reminded him. "Smart, motivated people can always find ways to overcome obstacles."

There was a pause in the discussion about everyone's 'common enemy'. Although he had been monitoring everybody's body language and expressions very, very closely, Luthor took this convenient silence to gage the common feelings in the room one last time and pleasantly noted that his nemesis had stopped staring at him, but seemed to actually be thinking about the topic at hand.

Conveniently, the lull and the most recent comments mentioned proved to be the perfect segue to his next big revelation.

"Interestingly enough, I think Flash has brought up a very important observation," he announced. "To consider the best way to neutralize Dr. Ultra, I think we should consider what his plans are and work with that."

"That would be great… if we knew what he had in mind," GL agreed.

Superman's eyes showed a flash of realization. He slowly panned up to meet Lex's confident face. He knew what the bald man was about to say.

"Actually, I may have an idea…" Lex announced.

Superman's icy stare was back. The revelation that Lex had been holding back some information served as a reminder to him that Lex was a master at manipulation. Within a half hour of taking their seats, their host had managed to steer their minds to whatever topic he wished and deflect mistrust away from himself. Clark silently chastised himself for becoming too complacent amidst the charm and sociable atmosphere.

The others weren't so quick to catch it.

Lex pivoted his chair towards a large wooden panel in a near-by wall. He clicked a few buttons on the keyboard recessed below the table and the panel slid smoothly away to reveal a viewing screen. A few keystrokes later, the lights dimmed and a fuzzy black and white image appeared.

"I was able to have a covert security camera installed in Dr. Ultra's lab so I could see a few things for myself, but in reality, I believe Matt could best enlighten us all… he's been there quite a few times."

All eyes but Lex's turned to Clayface, who didn't seem prepared for public speaking in general, let alone in front of those present. He took a deep breath as his eyes drifted towards nothing.

"He's got a machine," Matt announced, "that can move his brain into other bodies."

The four heroes shifted in their seats and their expressions jumped into varying degrees of shock and disbelief. It took a second for Superman to find his voice.

"You're saying he can take over other people's _bodies?_"

"No, not people," Matt corrected, "not yet anyway. So far, he's only been able to do it with animals…"

"Genetically-mutated animals to be precise," Lex filled in. He motioned to different areas on the monitor where there were holding pens or cages at the far ends of the lab. "He's created the most unholy creatures… a giant insect… even a tyrannosaurus rex…"

"And now he wants to capture Superman…" Shayera observed.

"Yes…" Lex answered, turning back towards the table as the lights came back up. "So, you see… building on the point Flash made… not only will he be a _'super-genius'_ but also have all of Superman's powers."

"If he succeeds," Matt added.

"Yes," Lex corrected himself. "_If_ he succeeds. I think it would be everyone's best interest that he not."

* * *

Diana sighed with a moment of relief. 

"The diagnostic has come up negative," she reported to J'onn over the com link.

"And I've been able to isolate and eliminate all the files that Nightwing listed for us," her colleague replied.

"I think we're safe, but let's keep the computers in the conference room isolated until we're sure."

She continued browsing through the system reports as the monitor womb's doors slid open and J'onn joined her again. He stood by silently as she scrolled through screen after screen, not acknowledging his presence. He wasn't looking at her, but he may as well have been – she felt the weight of his presence. Now that the emergency seemed to have been averted, the _other_ topic was the next logical thing to address, given that it was related to computers, security and Batman.

She knew what he was going to say. She knew that getting word to Batman about this latest development was the right thing to do. Any other time, she wouldn't hesitate or feel any trepidation about Batman being the authoritative investigator in a computer-related emergency. As it was, however, the last thing she wanted was to discuss anything about computers or files or security with that man. And it shamed her that she felt what was the closest thing to fear that she ever experienced about this subject.

"Batman will not be able to respond to any transmissions until after his mission," J'onn observed innocently enough.

"We'll have to do our best until then," she countered somewhat coldly. "In the mean time, we still have work to do…

Thankfully, nothing more on 'the subject' was said. The two resumed their diligence of listening to the transmissions from their collective colleague's com links and monitoring the other peripheral data being sent their way. As they listened, Clayface's revelation made them both take serious note.

"He can take over bodies… that's incredible!"

"Indeed."

J'onn turned to her with an observation and serious concern in his voice.

"Diana, if the Ultra Humanite wants to take over Superman's body and gain his powers, yet he had tried to capture Superman using the Achilles Device, then that would suggest that he may already have devised a way to _restore_ Superman's powers."

Diana turned slightly in her seat considering that observation.

"Yes… he would… In fact he would have considered this even before he planned the ACCORD attacks."

"That would suggest," J'onn continued, "that the methods of restoring Superman's powers that Batman and I formulated are not the only way. Our method would have killed Kal-El… Dr. Ultra must know a way of that wouldn't harm his body."

The realistic promise and prospect of returning her friend to normal allowed Diana's optimistic side to bloom hope. That is, until she was slammed with the realization that Bruce hadn't been able to find that procedure himself. Although it was rare, for Batman to not be the first to figure something out has been known to happen. But with something of this magnitude to escape his attention… either Batman was slipping or The Ultra Humanite was that clever. Neither possibility stood well with her.

Then her internal cynic spoke up.

Somewhere in the corner of her mind grew the possibility that Batman may have intentionally _not_ found a safe procedure for returning Superman's powers. Whether it was that he intentionally stopped looking, or he found something and intentionally kept it to himself didn't matter. She was able to quickly shoot the possibility down as absurd, but it bothered her for a brief moment that it had even occurred to her.

"When Batman returns, we'll have to discuss this with him as well," J'onn declared happily.

It took her a second to realize he was talking about the same thoughts that made her hopeful a moment ago – not the other, darker possibilities she had considered. If J'onn had felt her internal conflict, it didn't show. In fact, he showed as much enthusiasm and optimism as she'd ever seen from him. If he wasn't going to look on the dark side, then neither was she – at least not outwardly.

"I agree," she replied just as lightly. "With any luck, we'll put The Ultra Humanite behind bars, restore Superman's powers and bring everything back to the way it was. Back to normal!"

The proverbial white elephant of her statement was the omission of mentioning what to do with Batman and his powers.

It had taken oceans of patience for her to wait for Bruce to dissolve the invisible walls between them and give a relationship a fighting chance. In the starting days of their romance, Diana had actually considered how Bruce's powers had been a big part of it. And although she sensed some personality changes after a while, she really hadn't considered them serious. It had taken some time, but she eventually had to acknowledge the truth; even though her relationship with Bruce was because he gained super powers, she felt it inside that she wanted her old Bruce back – even at the risk of losing him.

Perhaps it was what she was feeling at the moment… and if he did, she couldn't tell if he did it on purpose or if her mind was playing tricks on her heart… but she could have swore that she heard J'onn's voice in her head:

'_It can never go back to the way it was.'_

* * *

Somewhere in the corners of Lex Luthor's office… 

BOOM!

Waiting...

He sat silently and waited. Watching. Observing. Thinking.

BOOM!

_'Maybe I should give him more credit. I can't find a single thing wrong with his performance. If I didn't know his powers were gone, I wouldn't be able to figure it out by watching him.'_

BOOM!

_'His posture... his expressions... the set of his jaw, his eyes... They all shout "confidence." I have to admit it - he's good.'_

He stole a glance at the expensive clock on the desk.

_'It's 9:26 and 33 seconds... This meeting won't go on for much more than another half hour...'_

BOOM!

The faces around the meeting table were painfully serious, but despite tense moments of friction, the meeting was actually progressing without much incident. Superman hadn't cut much slack in any areas. Hawkgirl was predictably impatient. Lantern was the voice of reason in many topics. Flash had been uncharacteristically quiet and when he did open his mouth, he voiced thoughtful, respectable comments.

At the other end of the table, Delores Winters had forced herself to relax, or to at least act relaxed. In fact, she had even begun to build a bold streak after noticing that Wally seemed to be stealing glances at her smooth cleavage. Clayface had been concentrating hard on paying attention, reading all the unsaid signals everybody was sending and maintaining his normal human-like appearance.

And then there was Lex. Ever the master of ceremonies, he steered the topics, laid out the options and allowed others to comment. He listened thoughtfully and agreed or disagreed in the most diplomatic fashion. His level of cooperation was impressive and only still questioned by the valiant blue eyes, in all their darkness at the other end of the table.

BOOM!

_'And that's the only thing left, isn't it Superman? Yours is the only voice of distrust left in the room. The others seem accepting... but not you. No, you're the strong one aren't you? At least that's what you're trying to make sure everybody still thinks.'_

BOOM!

_'All those times you flew in and saved the day... all those impossible feats... every time you walked away without so much as a scratch from the most horrendous calamities... you had that same look about you; Fearless... Indestructible... God-like'_

BOOM!

_'But you're not. Not anymore at least._

_'Were you ever?_

_'You still __look__ like the old Superman, but you'll bleed just like everyone else, now. Won't you?_

_'Well, like almost every one else…' _

_BOOM!_

_'But still you somehow manage to play the part._

_'You're sitting there with some kind of attitude… like you could crush that meeting table with your little finger._

_'But you can't, Clark.'_

_BOOM!_

_'Not any more._

_'You used to be able to do so much, but the battle was never-ending._

_'Despite your best efforts, there's still pain in the world. You could move mountains and yet, you couldn't stop the suffering. You weren't able to punch all the pain away.'_

BOOM!

_'And why is that? With all your abilities... abilities that you used to have... why didn't you do more? Why didn't you win over the hearts and minds of the common street thugs? Stop the murderers and rapists?_

_'Why didn't you scare the politicians straight and show the CEO's that greed is bad?_

_'Were you trying to let them all choose their own paths? Did you think that your very existence would be enough to guide them? Did you hope that people would just have to SEE you and discover that being good is more rewarding than stealing from thy neighbor?_

_'There have been better men then you that have tried... the people raise temples and shrines and churches in their names... and yet the people still suffer.'_

BOOM!

_'Now look at you. You were so damn good at saving the day... at taking the big hits so that those around you wouldn't have to. But you forgot the details, my friend. The devil's in the details._

_'You cured the symptoms, but not the diseases. You even formed the mighty Justice League to help in your quest, and even then the daily miseries continued._

_'Did you ever ask why? Did you ever think that there might be a way to stop all the crime and pain at the root? Cream floats and rocks sink, my friend. The best will always find a way to rise to the top and the worst will always push the limits of what is lowest in life._

BOOM!

_'And you allowed it to continue. You could have picked up the fallen and personally made sure that they found the light. You could have come down from on high... mingled with the mere mortals...'_

_'If an eight-year-old boy could look you in the eye… not on TV, not on a poster, but in real life... look you square in the eye... would that be enough to change his life? To make it so that he'll be filling out admission papers to college at eighteen instead of being admitted to a penitentiary?_

BOOM!

_'And it wouldn't have even taken that. You wouldn't have had to shake every hand and kiss every baby to make a bigger difference. All you had to do was stop the small wrongs of the world instead of saving your theatrics for the big shows._

_'Oh, you've saved the odd kitty from the tree, you've stopped the occasional bank heist... but when was the last time you wasted your time on those petty crimes?_

_'When was the last time you helped the little guy on a personal level? You don't bat an eye before you pull off one of your big performances and save thousands... why not perform a thousand good deeds for those same people one at a time?_

_BOOM!_

_'Too hard to do?'_

BOOM!

_'Not worth your time?_

Boom!

_'Did you grow too arrogant?'_

Bang!

_'And now you can't even do that anymore, can you?'_

Crack!

_'You're playing the part, still...'_

Tick!

_'But you're not up for the challenge any more.'_

Tock.

_'And you know it.'_

Tick.

'_I am.'_

Tock.

_'What's more… I am going to succeed where you failed.'_

tick tock tick tock tick tock

'_9:26 and 59 seconds… No, not much more than another half hour…'_

* * *

**AN: As always; thanks to all you readers out there! I'm doing this for you. Special Thanks to my Beta: Kipling-Nori... YOU ROCK!. And an Extra Special Thanks to all of you that took the time to drop me a line to let me know what you think of the story!**

**To: TONY  
Sorry I forgot to respond to you after your review of CH 17! I wasn't ignoring you. There will be more interaction between the heroes in coming chapters, and we'll see a little more inside stuff on Clark & how he's doing. But right now, they have to worry about this Ultra guy and if they can trust Luthor and Clayface or not! Thanks.**

**WL**


	20. Chapter 20: Pieces

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 20: Pieces 

It was after midnight when Lex left the LuthorCorp building. He had taken some time to meet with Mercy and review the security tapes after the meeting with the Justice League. There seemed to be no evidence that anything too unusual took place other than the unexplained failure of an infrared camera on the roof and some static on an ultra-sensitive microphone in Lex's office.

Replaying the major scenes in his head as Mercy drove him through the night, he tried to reflect objectively on the meeting. With the exception of Matt's confession of his history with the Wayne Foundation in Gotham, everything seemed to go as smoothly as a corporate meeting. There were a few heated moments and there were times of tension, but he had practically planned those as he had said mildly confrontational comments at exactly the right times. All in all, he thought, things had gone as he had anticipated.

He just couldn't shake the nagging in the back of his mind that there was something about his visitors' behavior that he couldn't quite explain. They were as apprehensive about the situation as he had expected, and he credited his own charm with being able to put them at ease. But something kept telling him that their eventual agreeableness was parallel to a ruse.

He was finally able to brush off his suspicions and blame late-night fatigue as he made his way to Ultra's location and waited for the ancient scientist to take a break from his work.

"Were they impressed with the contents of the computer disk?" Ultra asked without looking up or acknowledging Lex's presence.

"Yes."

"Excellent."

The two bald men were alone in an old, rickety warehouse that had been converted into a haphazard laboratory. They were flanked by cages of sleeping beasts, crates of machinery and material, and huge crates containing who knows what. Most of the lighting was off or dimmed except for the research corner where the two men were working. One was working, at least… the other was just biding his time.

"_Superman_ was there," Lex admitted with a sour voice, "but I don't have any hard evidence that it was him… it could have been the Martian… but I don't think it was."

This got Ultra's attention. He looked up from his work, but didn't look at Lex.

"Did he use any of his powers?"

Lex paused involuntarily. The direct answer to the question was one thing, but to word a follow up explanation properly… one that would not become an invitation for more questions… that was something else. And he wanted to avoid any questions revolving around tomorrow's plans On the fly, he formulated a response that would describe what had _happened_ during the meeting without exposing what had been _said._

"No. There was never any need to. Had I tried to set up some sort of test… well, the meeting would have been over before it began. But I know Superman – probably better than anyone outside the League. It was him alright. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he was just as powerful as ever."

With that, Ultra turned to study Lex's face.

"But you don't know for sure."

"No."

Again, silence intruded uncomfortably. Both men trying to gauge the other, both believing they were in control of the situation. Lex was the first to break the tension and open up a difficult subject.

"I think we need to reconsider the odds that he _hasn't_ been stripped of his abilities."

The old man in the wheelchair leaned to one side as he thought. Lex looked on, trying to spy anything that betrayed what was going through his mind, but all he could make out was that his companion was contemplating deeply.

"I seriously doubt that's the case, Lex," Ultra finally said with a touch of condescension, "But even if it is, my plans account for that contingency."

Lex, leaning cross-armed against a table, eyed the old man in the wheelchair with something akin to pity in his expression. It was more than his pathetic, frail body, with all his wheezing and coughing that caused such sympathy. It was the knowledge that all Ultra's planning and posturing was going to go to waste yet the good doctor didn't seem to have a clue.

There was a tense silence between the two bald men. Neither one had actually admitted to the other that they were growing more and more uncomfortable in each other's company, but it was apparent none-the-less. The arrogance and pride they both spewed usually caused other 'lesser' people to bend to their respective whims. Against each other, however, it was a titanic clash of personalities.

Lex _knew_ that he had the upper hand, however. He had willingly played the second fiddle to the Ultra Humanite's lead, allowing him the opportunity to observe while the other man directed. And that was simply one of his finer approaches to arrogant people; let them run the show and find their weaknesses based on the choices they make. Then, when they feel that they are in complete control, exploit those weaknesses and bring them crashing back to reality. He loved doing that.

He had struggled mightily at first to find the soft spots of his ally's armor, and once he discovered that Ultra's pride in his own intelligence was the key, he played on it masterfully. He may have appeared to be sitting in the co-pilot's seat, but in reality, Lex knew that he was the one that would wind up on top at the end of the day. He had no doubt.

But that didn't keep him from feeling uneasy.

Despite knowing that he had effectively lulled Ultra into a false sense of superiority, he still had a buzzing in the back of his mind that he couldn't let his guard down for a second around him… ever. Their relationship, strained as it was, could still vault Lex and his corporations to untouchable heights. Then again, it could be the ruination of his whole world. Although the later would be a very unlikely and dire extreme, it was still a possibility. And because it was, Lex could never truly trust the situation if he didn't have _complete_ control. So he continually prodded…

"I know you're _master plan_ has it all covered… but I still wish you would let me know…"

"You know all you need to know!" the sickly man managed to shout, his face reddening as he straightened up as best he could.

"Look!" Lex stood even taller, staring the invalid down. "I've invested _millions_ in this! I have a LOT more to lose than you do if this fails!"

It took a second for Ultra to regain his composure, but once he did, the patronization in his voice was as thick as ever. He smiled like an all-knowing father and turned back towards his work.

"You may have more to lose than you know," he muttered snidely, turning his chair towards more equipment.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

When the old man didn't respond, Lex's fury started to build. It took a controlled effort to calm himself.

_He's goading me… He's bluffing…_

The silence was strained and only relieved by the sounding of an electronic device finishing its analysis. The scientist wheeled over to the console and studied the results.

"_Excellent,"_ he whispered before turning back towards his companion. He took as deep a breath as he could in his condition and tried to sit up straight. Folding his hands neatly on his lap, his face took on a look of concern.

"Lex," he started as if they were close friends, "I don't have much longer to live. This old body of mine isn't long for this world, but _my mind_ is still _burning_ with wonders! I'm not ready to die yet, but by five o'clock tomorrow afternoon, I'll either _be_ dead or on my way towards realizing my life's dream."

Lex sat quietly, studying the decaying man as he spoke. He listened to every word and watched every twitch of his wrinkled hands, every gleam in his ghostly pale eyes. He searched and waited to see some sign of deception, of deeper plotting, but none ever came. Ultra was speaking in extremes; death or success. Absolutes – no in between. It seemed that he was witnessing a true confession from a dying man – a person that was beginning to worry about the mark he'd leave on this world if his days ended tomorrow.

"You and I aren't so different," Ultra continued, "in that our brilliance has been suffocated by that… _man_ that the common sheep of this world hail as a _hero._"

Ultra's eyes drifted towards an unseen point a thousand miles away as he spat out that word. He took a second to regain himself, but continued clinically.

"He must be stopped, Lex. We both know it… You say that you stand to lose millions if we fail… I say that we _both_ stand to lose _the world_. And worse… if that happens, then there will be no one else left that would be capable of destroying that _creature_."

He wheeled himself closer to where Lex stood and looked imploringly up into his eyes.

"Don't you see, Lex?" he asked with urgency. "We _can't _fail. We just _can't_. The beauty of our planet must be rid of his… _infectious presence!_"

The old man doubled over in his chair in a coughing fit. Lex stared on in pity, puffing his chest and glaring down his nose at the decrepit figure convulsing before him. After a measured moment, he sighed and gave in to the sympathy forcing its way into his heart and he passed the old man a nearby glass of water.

'_I don't know why I didn't just have you killed weeks ago.'_

After waiting for Ultra to regain his composure, Lex turned to leave. He spoke politely, but sternly.

"I have business to finish up tonight," he announced as he made towards the door. "For both our sakes, I hope things go as they should tomorrow."

His footsteps echoed around the lab as he marched through the darkness towards the exit. As he reached for the handle, he took a last look back at the lonely man across the way. The soft, low strands of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" crept through the air before he turned and walked out.

* * *

"You make a beautiful geek. Did I ever tell you that?" 

Barbara Gordon fought the urge to smile, but lost. Her sparkling eyes glanced for a second over the rims of her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, over the top of her monitor, and right at Dick Grayson's handsome face. His eyes sparkled back at her.

"Yeah, well, flattery'll getcha nowhere, officer."

She typed a few commands and returned to her more serious mode as she scanned the data parading up her computer screen.

"Now, flattery and _Chinese food_…" she purred, sitting up into a well-earned stretch, "_that_ just might get you noticed…"

Dick winked and held up the brown paper bags for Oracle to see, just as the mesmerizing aroma of cashew chicken and egg rolls reached her. He made his way through her apartment to her kitchen table and started unpacking the white boxes.

Barbara hit a few more commands on her computer, then wheeled her chair away from her desk. She hummed out her approval as she breathed in the tantalizing scent and made her way across the room.

"You know how to treat a girl."

"Yeah, well, I'm just glad you're a cheap date."

"This is a _date?_" she squawked.

"Well… nooooo, but" Dick replied slowly, trying to come up with something clever and charming. He was interrupted before he could.

"Good. Because when this is over, you _are _going to take me out on a _real_ date. Is that clear?"

Dick stepped behind her wheelchair as she helped herself to an egg roll. Bending down, he gently wrapped his arms around her neck and nuzzled his cheek against hers.

"You got it," he promised before planting a quick peck on her cheek.

The two helped themselves to their dinner and sat in quiet conversation before he thought the time was right to get back to the technical matters of the evening.

"So, what's the bad stuff on that disk supposed to do?" he asked innocently enough.

"Well…" she started before swallowing her mouth full of shrimp fried rice, "It looks like it's searching for specific command protocols and control subroutines. Basically, it's written to be very vague, like it doesn't know any particular file names or system specs, but it's supposed to check logs and spy on the different applications of a system. The logs would show how often routines are used…. how long they're in use… that kind of stuff. When it identifies the most commonly used things, it takes control of them."

"That's pretty intense…"

"Yeah… It was written pretty well," she admitted as she took another bite. "Clearly a professional job. And it was clever enough in that the hacker _knew_ that he didn't know the exact things to find, but he did an excellent job defining the search parameters… The virus would have been able to seize the most important components of almost _any_ system…"

Barbara paused and thought out her next sentence very carefully before she said it in the most unassuming way.

"But I don't think Luthor's people wrote it."

That caught Dick's attention. He shot her an inquisitive look as his chopsticks slowly lowered away from his mouth.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, most of the files on that disk were technical in nature. They were encrypted, yeah, but on the whole, once the disk was unlocked, they were just tech briefs, schematics and blueprints… that sort of thing."

She picked up a white box and started poking around for loose cashews as she talked.

"Even the encryption software is fairly standard, although top shelf… But the parts of the disk that triggered the virus… it was a whole different style and code… It was made up of fragments that were designed to come together when triggered. The fragments were embedded harmlessly in those other files. Normally, when worms or viruses… or Trojan Horses are embedded in files, they're done so intentionally, and they _look_ like part of the file. These things didn't."

Dick chewed thoughtfully as his girlfriend explained. His crystal eyes were set deep in thought as she continued.

"Let me put it this way; in normal cases of high-concept viruses, if you could call the files "blue", then the virus would be "turquoise" – that way it would be hard to see, but you could see _something _was there. In _this _case, if the files were blue, then the virus was black, or clear. To the casual observer, it would look like there was _nothing_ there… but once you know that there _is_ something there, finding the black or clear pieces becomes pretty easy. That's why normal scans missed it. But now that we know it's there, I can put it all together."

Dick didn't know if he understood better with that poor analogy, but he appreciated her attempt. He allowed her to try to talk 'down' to him at times like this, even though he was capable of following her techno-babble at any time. It made her feel good about herself and he liked that.

"You still didn't tell me why you think Luthor didn't do it…"

"Oh, well… It just looks like it was _added_ to the files on the disk after they were generated… kinda quickly thrown on after-the-fact, y'know? I would have thought that Luthor would have embedded it _within_ the files, that's all."

Dick considered her analysis, but didn't feel convinced. He finished his mouthful and pressed Barbara a little more.

"It was hard enough to find as it is… with a little more work, it would have been damn near impossible – even if somebody knew it was there."

Babs took a swallow of her yellowish-green high-octane soda before continuing.

"Why wouldn't Lex have taken that one little, teeeeeeny-tiny extra step if it would have helped his plans?"

Dick's mind churned on that answer.

'_Why, indeed.'_

* * *

The alarm at the LuthorCorp building had gone off at exactly 3:30. The band of four thugs that Dr. Ultra had hired through untraceable channels had broken in to the medical research labs. The LuthorCorp security team had contained them all in the lab on the 18th floor. The criminals had found the cache of concentrated prescription narcotics that they were promised. They found the other chemicals and equipment that they were supposed to find and even a couple of hostages. All according to plan. 

What the culprits _didn't_ know was that they were simply a spectacle, intended to draw out the Justice League – and Superman in particular. They also didn't know that the Justice League was aware of their plans.

The Metropolis police force had cleared the area and surrounded the building. Yellow caution tape and wooden traffic obstacles were set up among the flashing lights and squad cars. The S.W.A.T. team was in communication with the Mercy Graves, who was on the scene with her people in the stairwell on the 17th floor.

Amidst all the commotion, the Man of Steel streaked across the cloudy sky, and landed effortlessly on the pavement near the officer in charge.

"What seems to be the trouble Lieutenant?"

"Nothing we can't handle," the gruff older man barked, not looking up from his blueprints of the building.

"I see," Superman smiled.

He waited and watched the police organize an honest effort to confront the hostage situation. The crusty old S.W.A.T. Lieutenant formed an assault team and started to outline his plan for penetration when the unneeded hero interrupted him.

"Excuse, me… officer…_Lieutenant!_"

"What?!" he snapped, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Don't you think your men should don anti-contamination suits and Class II breathing masks… what with the threat of chlorine gas and all…"

"What are you talking about? There's been no threat… and there's no chlorine up there!"

The officer sounded sure of himself, but still glanced at his technical analysts, who paged through the list of hazardous chemicals LuthorCorp had provided and shook his head.

Superman continued on pleasantly.

"Not right now… but there _is_ a Fabre & Hughes Membrane Cell Electrolysis unit up there and enough potassium chloride solution to produce about 4,000 liters of pure Chlorine gas in 18 minutes. Well, actually 15, now that they have already begun the process. Plus, with the…"

"How the hell do you know all this?"

With a _'Do you know who I am?'_ look, Superman simply pointed to his eyes.

Huffing in frustration, the older man turned to confer with the senior S.W.A.T. members. After a moment of heated discussion, they had to confess that they didn't have the proper equipment to mount an offensive in those conditions. Another senior looking person talked about the casualty rates of a large release of pure chlorine gas in a crowded metropolitan area.

The lieutenant didn't bother to voice an apology, but simply spoke as if the man in blue next to him was a last resort.

"OK. What can you do?"

"I believe I can end this quickly, but allow me verify some things first."

With that, Superman walked calmly over to the large black communications van. Poking his head in, he asked the two officers inside if he could talk to the LuthorCorp security team over the radio. Stunned at his presence, it took them a second to agree.

Superman picked up a headset and announced himself, then requested to talk to the person in charge. Upon hearing his voice, Mercy spewed out her responses without trying to disguise her feelings about the fact that he was there.

"Gentlemen," Superman said sadly to the two officers in the van, "this conversation may get a bit… uncomfortable. Could I have a minute alone, please?"

The star-struck officers stammered about protocols that should be observed. When Superman flashed them a glance that let them know that his request wasn't as much a request as a command, they hesitantly agreed and left him alone.

Once the door was closed, J'onn relaxed to his more natural state and called the Watchtower over his com link.

"Flash, teleport them to my position."

Nobody outside the communications van saw Batman and the real Superman teleport in, nor did anybody see J'onn teleport away after a brief conversation. They all just waited outside and wondered what it was that Superman and Mercy Graves could possibly say to each other that would help the situation.

Back in the vehicle, amongst the flashing lights and soft beeps and hums, Clark Kent sighed powerfully. His eyes were focused on nothing a thousand miles away.

This was going to be difficult.

The only man he ever fully trusted had died long ago. After his father, Bruce Wayne probably ranked right up there as a close second. And although he didn't agree with Bruce's methods or attitudes in many, many ways, Clark had untold respect for the man. And trust.

He trusted Bruce with his life… with the lives of his loved ones. The fact that Clark would call upon Batman before any other being to save Earth spoke volumes of how he felt. They had butted heads as often than not, but when it came down to it, one of Superman's heroes was Batman.

Despite the trust and respect… this was still going to be difficult.

They discussed it after the meeting in Luthor's office the night before. They went over it again and again. The others had weighed in on the situation and they had even performed countless exercises to confirm it was even possible. It wouldn't be too hard of a stretch for Clark to believe that he could trust his life to Batman.

It was the instinct to flinch that he couldn't stop.

"You ready?" the Dark Knight asked as if it mattered.

"Yep. Let's do it."

* * *

After a few minutes, the back doors of the van opened and Superman stepped out – seemingly alone. He nodded and thanked the two men as they retook their posts among the electronics. Striding back towards the officer in charge, Superman spoke of the information about the two hostages that Mercy had finally shared with him. He started outlining his intensions of crashing through the windows on the north side of the building to take the lawbreakers by surprise when a flash of blue light announced the arrival of The Martian Manhunter and Hawkgirl. 

"We thought you could use a little backup."

"Thanks, but I think I got it. Maybe you could help out the authorities here with crowd control…"

"_Crowd control?"_ Hawkgirl shot back in disbelief.

Superman chuckled internally at his colleague's reaction… that exact reaction had hoped to cause. He smiled slyly at her and took a few steps towards the building.

"Back in a minute…"

Clark took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. That was the signal to his teammate that he was ready. He looked up at the mirrored glass panes 18 stories above him, crouched down and jumped. As he did, his invisible comrade standing in front of him took hold of his waist and launched them both towards the building. With one super leap, the invisible Bat effectively made Superman fly… in front of hundreds of witnesses, and even more importantly, many news and LuthorCrop security cameras.

The two smashed through the windows of the LuthorCorp building, right into medical labs. The explosive noise and flying shards took the gunmen by surprise.

"Superman!" one of the hostages yelled in relief.

Almost instantly, two machine guns were aimed and firing at the hero. With a superhuman effort, Clark didn't flinch, although he did squint. His invisible companion, standing directly in front of him shielded all the bullets, just like they had discussed he would only a few hours ago.

As the bullets sprayed in, Clark tucked his chin and stared hard at the gunman on his left. He let out a simple grunt, which was the sign for the first phase of disarming the men. Batman had already unsheathed a dual LASER from his utility belt, and upon hearing Clark's sound, he fired a quick pulse at the punk on the left. The AK-47 fell to the ground when the twin red beams caught the man's bicep, and the pair of heroes used the same technique to disable the other's weapon.

While that was going on, one of the other thugs had taken a hostage as a human shield while the last one had pulled a gas mask down over his face and lunged at the controls for the chlorine tanks that were nearly full.

"Do it, man, and this bitch it TOAST!" the crazed man yelled, hoisting his hostage off the ground by her neck, jamming the barrel of his pistol against her temple.

"In fact," the other masked suspect said more calmly, "if you don't get out of here in the next five seconds, everybody in a three block radius is going to have a very bad day… do you know what this is _Superman?_ Do you know what it _does_ to people? Like your friends out in the stairwell and those pigs down on the street?"

The disarmed gunmen, scrambled for their gas masks despite their obvious pain.

Superman took a serious stance as he stared down the one by the chlorine tanks… who obviously was the leader.

"Yes, I do know what that is," Superman replied with an undeniably serious, yet calm voice. "Now let me ask _you_ something… do you know that chlorine gas has no affect on _me_ and that you've got about _four_ seconds to drop your weapons before _you _have a _very... bad… day?"_

"_Are you sure about this, Andrews?" _one punk whispered to the leader.

"Shut up!" Andrews hissed back, then more loudly for challenge; "He can't stop the gas _and_ a bullet fired into that woman's brain!"

'_J'onn!'_ Batman thought loudly. _'Tell Clark… "Plan Echo"'_

After a tense second, the Man of Steel relaxed and stood somewhat casually. He looked at his fingernails and didn't seem very interested in anything else. After a moment he looked back up as if remembering that he wasn't alone in the room.

"You must be new around here…"

Andrews cocked his head in disbelief.

"You think I'm _bluffin'_ tough guy?"

"No, I don't," Superman replied lightly. "But I _do_ think that you've overestimated your advantage."

Smiling evilly, Andrews began to count out loud.

"ONE!"

The hostages looked back and forth frantically between their captors and their should-be savior.

"TWO!"

Superman sighed.

"THREE!"

A rush of wind blasted around the room in a split second, knocking over chairs and sending the criminals and the innocents alike into confusion. When everybody got their bearings straight, they were able to see that the hostages were moved to a far corner of the lab – out of harm's way, all the weapons were disassembled and in piles in the middle of the room, and the release mechanisms on the chlorine tanks were disabled.

"Four," The Man of Steel said as if bored.

The suspects were speechless and slack-jawed. They stood as motionless as statues as they watched their conqueror walk calmly over towards the main entrance doors and call for the LuthorCorp security team. Upon hearing the boot steps trampling up the hallway, one thug made an attempt to run, only to be stopped cold in his tracks by unyielding blue eyes telling him that it would be a mistake.

Superman stood back for the team of security guards to file past in their dark blue uniforms, weapons drawn. They shouted orders for the four gunmen to lay face down with their hands behind their heads. Mercy strutted in calmly, quickly surveyed the situation and met with Superman in front of the relieved lab technicians, now released from their ordeal.

"Is everybody OK?" she asked without a hint of concern in her strong voice, pulling off her safety goggles and helmet.

Upon getting nods all around, she then turned and looked up at Superman.

"Do we have _you_ to thank for all this?" she charged, waving a hand at the chaos in the lab.

"If by 'all of this' you mean that the gunmen are captured, the hostages are freed and the chlorine gas is still contained, then yes."

She eyed him unimpressed.

"I'm sure Mr. Luthor will be in touch with you to offer his appreciation," she forced herself to say.

"Yes, I'm sure he will," Superman agreed politely.

The hostages were led out first as the security team continued to frisk the suspects and scope out the area. Several duffle bags of weapons and equipment were gathered and added to the pile on the tables. When Mercy was sure that the lab was secure, she ordered the men taken away. Turning towards the two most junior guards, she gave one last command to gather the evidence before following the rest of her team out of the room.

She had been waiting for the elevators a few moments with the security detail when one of the suspects caught her keen eye. His hands were cuffed behind his back, but he was fidgeting in an unusual way. She angrily shoved a guard out of her way and lunged at Andrews when she realized that he had managed to unsheathe a small black device from his sleeve.

"Stop him!" she shouted, tackling the man to the ground, but it was too late.

A tremendous explosion rocked the building. Dust and broken chunks of ceiling tile and overhead lights crashed down around the small party. Mercy saw the triumphant smile on Andrews' face as she regained her feet. She turned back towards the doors to the lab to find them blasted off their hinges. One of the rookie guards was lying unconscious on the floor, two black duffle bags of weapons still in his arms. The other guard was nowhere in sight. She shot Andrews a look of fury and struggled to suppress the need to kick in his teeth.

"Stay with the prisoners!" she shouted, "And check them all _again._ Strip 'em down to their underwear if you have to, just make sure there are no more surprises!"

Turning towards one of the more senior guards; "You're with me!"

The two raced back to the lab. There were small piles of paper burning in odd corners, shattered machinery and equipment strewn throughout the room. Electric sparks showered down from damaged lights and smoke and dust hung heavy in the air.

The first thing she did upon reentering the lab was to order her man to check the chlorine tanks, then she hit the power switch for the emergency ventilation system. Thankfully, it still worked and with a mechanical roar the air began to clear. The chlorine was still safe, but one of her guards was unaccounted for. Hardening her will, Mercy stepped slowly through the lifting haze in search of her missing man – a rather large, powerfully built young man that she had been impressed with since he had been hired just a few days before.

She found him in a far corner. His large frame was twisted in an unusual way and his torso didn't seem to show any signs of breathing. Mercy muttered quiet curses under her breath as she knelt down and checked his pulse at his wrist. She sighed in thanks to find that he was still alive, but the odd twisting of his body led her to fear potential spinal injury. She waved her captain over and pulled her radio off her hip to call for paramedics.

That's when Mercy noticed peanut-sized green pebbles scattered all over the room.

And Superman's motionless body just a few feet away.

* * *

**AN: OK, let me have it. So, I haven't updated since, like Roosevelt was in office. And all along, I've been claiming to NOT be one of those people that starts a story and doesn't finish. Well, I hope that I haven't offended anybody with the delay in getting Chapter 20 out. Thanks, for reading!**

**I'd also like to drop a few words about the last section of Chapter 19. I left that portion a little vague, a little unusual on purpose. I was trying something. For those that haven't figured it out, that whole section was Batman's internal monologue. He was in Luthor's office during the meeting - invisible, of course. And because he's Batman, his mind was very "on" at the time. The "BOOM!" was supposed to actually be the ticking of a clock in his over-sensitive ears. And the whole passage went through his mind in just a few seconds. Sorry if there was any confusion.**

**I'm a big fan of Reviews, myself. I'm pretty new at this writting thing, so getting feedback is very important. Many people have sent me reviews via the Fan Fic meathods, and many people have dropped me personal messages. It means a lot to me that people actually take the time to write a little something to let me know what the think about the story, my writing - what ever. So, extra thanks to all of you that have done so. I take every review or PM seriously and try to either reply directly or as an add-on with the next chapter. I'm writing this story for YOU. Hits on the page and reviews are ways that I judge if my efforts are worth a darn.**

**If a review is anon. and I can't reply directly, then I like to reply at the end of subsequent chapters... like this:**

**To Anon.  
In my first story (Learning the Reasons), I had made a point of using given names vs. hero names at very specific times. I'm not so strict with it in this story - they'll call each other by their first names in private, yet refer to each other by their hero names in official communications. But then again, to me, some characters have their names open and interchangable; basically, the ones without secret identities; Diana/WW, Shayera/HG, J'onn/MM. I'm sorry if it's too confusing or annoying.  
As far as Oracle's location... I gotta admit, I don't know a whole lot about the character - mostly what I've read in other Fan Fics. So, in this story, she's in a wheelchair & no longer Batgirl. She and Dick are an item. She's serving as Oracle to the Batclan either out of her apartment and/or the Batcave... I guess she's not really set up with the Clocktower yet - but within the context of this story, it really isn't crucial.  
I know J'onn can telepathically link to people all around the world, but I keep thinking to times within the cartoon when he has to know where the person is, or some other such thing before he can find them. And of course, if Batman doesn't want to be found... ain't nobody gonna find him!  
While I agree that Batman just sitting around may seem a little too passive, I'd also have to think that he's also spending many a night on stakeout, just sitting, waiting and observing. Think of "This Little Piggy" which opens up with him & Diana on stakeout... she complains about the waiting and he talks about it being part of the job, etc. I would beleive that for him to sit still and watch/listen for hours on end is nothing new for him.  
Thanks for the review... Hope you like the rest of the story!**

**And, as always, Kipling-Nori... you rock. You've been a great sounding board and Beta for me. Your efforts are appreciated more than you know!**


	21. Chapter 21: Hollow Victories

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 21: Hollow Victories 

Outside of Metropolis, in an unknown location, the old man cursed and fumed as he struggled to command his computer to find satisfactory means of monitoring the situation. His fingers, stiff and crooked from arthritis, resisted his will to type fast enough. Eventually, he had to resort to, of all things, a video feed from a news crew at ground level.

"Uneducated buffoon!" he muttered as he impatiently muted the news anchor commentary and squinted to see the images clearly.

Ultra witnessed Superman emerging from the S.W.A.T. communications van and, within a few moments, J'onn J'onnz and Hawkgirl teleported onto the screen. The news camera zoomed in to observe the situation as the three conversed with the S.W.A.T. Lieutenant. He wasn't taken completely by surprise that J'onn and Superman would be in the same place at the same time, but he was certain that they would have to stage some sort of ruse to cover up for Superman's powerless state. His interest in their cleverness built considerably.

Ultra watched with a smug smile contorting his gray face, trying to anticipate what 'trick' they would use and he prepared himself for omniscient superiority when he'd be able to find the flaws in their attempts. Instead, his eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the Man of Steel fly up and smash through the windows on the 18th floor of 1 LuthorCorp Plaza.

After that, from the obscure angle of the news camera, all that was evident was that there was gunfire. Superman was only visible from the waist up, but the peripheral debris made it clear that bullets were simply bouncing off him as they had done countless times before. The cameraman was also able to capture the bright red glow of energy flashing within the lab. A few moments later, the news crew captured Superman stepping out of view followed shortly by evidence of a torrent of wind blowing within the building.

The withered hands shakily typed again, switching to the video feed from the devices that his hired mercenaries had planted on the security cameras within the LuthorCorp labs. His monitor split into four grainy, black and white scenes, showing different angles of the same room.

From the relatively poor quality images, he didn't see much else that let him relax. It was quite clear that bullets were not hurting the hero, despite the point-blank range from which they were fired. It was obvious that twin beams of energy seemed to shoot out of Superman's eyes to disarm two henchmen. Ultra even saw his adversary's body flinch just before the camera angles were twisted unproductively away from the center of the lab by a whirlwind of activity. It had been unclear what had happened, but when the images finally settled, three screens were useless and from the fourth he could only see the tops of two of his hired thugs' heads.

He replayed the images again and again, trying to find some evidence that it was all a hoax, but he simply could not. All in all, from every bit of evidence he had, it looked like a typical "Superman Saves the Day" kind of situation.

Ultra slumped back in his wheelchair. His mouth hung open and his mind reeled in confusion.

'_How could they have _staged _that? The Martian was on the ground… there was no time for anybody else to get into the room… there _was_ nobody else in the room… he deflected bullets… the heat vision - nobody else has that power…'_

The tired old man felt the black pit of anger sinking inside him as he considered that he might have been wrong. And he hated being wrong, absolutely hated it. It was a sign of weakness. His breathing slid into wheezing, then his wheezing melted into coughing and hacking. He convulsed and struggled to will his body to comply to his commands while he summed up the situation. He eventually calmed himself to the point where he could regain his concentration.

For as much as he felt that being wrong was a sin, not planning for all possibilities was more so. And he reminded himself that he could take solace in knowing that he had planned for even this possibility. After that, he was able to regain his composure and even his arrogance. His face grew cocky as he glanced at the machines at the far end of his lab.

'_Merely, an inconvenience…'_ he allowed.

As that thought crossed his mind, the security feed on his monitors caught a tremendous flash from within the lab, then showed nothing but static.

He was able to switch back to the news feed in time to catch the news cameras on the streets shooting up to the 18th floor of the LuthorCorp building. Rubble and dust blasted out the remaining windows. Within a few confusing seconds, the cameraman had panned down to street level and focused in on some of the raining debris, including a few tiny, bright green pebbles.

Ultra smiled. Then he looked at his clock… 4:28pm.

"Excellent."

* * *

The bullets bounced off his chest like so many toys thrown by a child. He half smiled to himself, marveling at the absurdity of it all – an invisible man tricking humans into believing that an alien was invulnerable. If it weren't actually happening to him, he would have thought it ridiculous. 

But it was happening. Every bit of it. He flexed his chest with a deep breath, watching each and every bullet sprayed in his direction. They might as well have been balloons on the wind, as slow and ineffective as they were in his eyes. If one wasn't going to hit him directly, he swatted it out of the way like a gnat. The taller man behind him had absolutely nothing to fear, and he felt the warm rush of accomplishment knowing that all was going according to plan.

Calmly, like he was retrieving a pen to sign an autograph, he pulled a small device out of his utility belt. It was a laser torch that he normally used to cut chain or other such metal devices. He had modified it this morning to direct the beams on parallel paths rather than focused on a point. Keeping the device invisible in the clutches of his gloved hand, he looked over his shoulder, checked the position of his friend's eyes, and hearing the signal, blasted the right bicep of the appropriate gunman. It was a quick flash. Maybe it singed the skin a little, but nothing major. Just enough to stun him… make him drop his gun.

The other gunman was closer to the hostages. Batman thought it would be better to disable the weapon altogether. So, upon hearing the second signal from his more visible partner, he took aim at the barrel and fired for a second longer. The end of the gun's barrel heated up very next bullet sprayed out like aerosol. The suspect immediately released the trigger and dropped the weapon.

That's when the showdown started. A hostage was used as a human shield and the ante was upped by one set of chlorine tanks.

'_They never learn.'_

He took the time to sigh before projecting his plans to J'onn, who, in turn, informed Superman of what to do next. After that, he just had to wait for the cue…

Moving at near mach speed while maintaining his invisibility was getting to be so natural now that he had been living a good portion of his days that way. Effectively, he had turned a 24-hour day into virtually a week. His strength had been more than equal to almost any task. His stamina waned after prolonged use, but recovered in mere seconds. In fact, he often found it difficult to slow down once he was motivated. There were so many things to do.

He blazed through the lab, securing the area, protecting the innocent, dissecting the guns… he even placed the disassembled components neatly on an examining table in the standard layout taught to privates in boot camp.

When the LuthorCorp guards filed in and started taking the suspects into custody, it was clear that the danger had passed. According to the plans, Clayface and Superman should have a couple of minutes away from prying eyes and they can trade places. It looked like everything was coming together.

The Dark Knight took a moment to stealthily scope the lab and even parts of the rest of the 18th floor of the LuthorCorp building. He didn't find anything out of the ordinary for the situation; a few black duffel bags, some dropped automatic weapon clips, spent casings all over the floor… without disturbing the lay of the area, and thus giving away his presence, it was difficult to spot any more danger.

'_Outside…'_

There were news crews and spectators on the roofs and in the windows of all the buildings within view. Countless people were peering out between blinds, from behind curtains, from dark rooms and well-lit rooms. Many had cameras or cell phones. Many had binoculars. For the most part, the people were giving in to the kind of morbid curiosity one would expect associated with such a spectacle. And these were just the average citizens of Metropolis watching their favorite son in action.

Or were they?

His keen eyes darted across the scenery. Like finding letters in a word search, he scanned each window, each face, each pair of eyes that he could find. He looked for that one person – the one that didn't belong. The one that years of experience would tell him to watch out for.

The one in the southwest corner apartment on the twentieth floor of the building two streets down.

He leapt out the window landing on the roof across the way, then vaulted himself to the roof of the suspect's building. He blasted through the stairwell door and tore down the stairs. Slicing down the hallway, missing a teenage boy and his dog, he burst into the apartment and found the tall man standing alone in the dark wearing a black trench coat. He was maneuvering large device on a tripod by the window.

The man didn't even have time to turn and see what it was that demolished his front door. He had been grappled by the collar and flung to the floor face down. He hadn't had a chance to take a breath before a knee dropped onto his spine, his hair caught in the Dark Knight's grasp, driving his face into the stale carpet.

Batman reached for a restraint from his utility belt when he saw the true look of terror on the man's face. For a moment, it seemed like the kind of expression anybody would wear if they'd been wrestled to the ground by an invisible assailant, but there was something else.

The man's horror was real. He was petrified and grew more so with each passing second. This man wasn't a cool-minded professional, no. This man was weak, both physically and mentally. And he was afraid of most things in life.

Batman took stock of the darkened apartment around him. The furniture was old and worn-down, second if not third-hand. There were empty bags of chips and other snacks littered on the floor and tables. An open pizza box had cold pizza from some dinner days ago. The place reeked of poor hygiene and odd latex items.

There was an impressive computer system in the corner. It was clearly the most expensive item in the room. It had a large flat-screen monitor that was fading through various pictures of naked women in obscure positions. Then there were all the odd toys.

The huge object on the tripod was merely an outdated VHS video camera. The long, black tube-like device… the thing that had looked like the barrel of a sniper's riffle from across the street… was nothing more than a telescopic microphone.

'_This guy's not a hit man… he's a pervert… a creep!'_

Maintaining himself concealed, Batman raised up off the pathetic creature, though he never dropped his look of disgust. Clearly this wimp wasn't a threat to Superman, but he _was_ a threat to his neighbors – and the kind of person that Batman could save with just a tone of voice.

"Stop shaming yourself and live a life worth living,"

Not moving from his place on the floor, the man nodded his head frantically, confessing repeatedly that he would change.

Before leaving the putrid apartment, Batman stole a glance out the window. He turned just in time to see an explosion blast through the LuthorCorp Labs.

'_Clark!'_

* * *

Circling high out of sight around the outskirts of Metropolis, Green Lantern and Wonder Woman were in the Javelin, monitoring the activities of the LuthorCorp building via the link that Flash had established with them from the Watchtower. They had all the visual and audio feeds available and were following the goings on step by step. 

The break-in and resulting alarm had happened exactly as Luthor had told them it would the night before. The sketchy details he provided had been more or less correct in that there were four culprits, possible hostages and a threat of chlorine gas making superhero intervention a necessity. They also knew that there would be a time when Clayface and Superman should be able to swap places undetected – but nobody was able to say precisely when or where. Nor was it clear exactly how or when Ultra would try to capture Superman.

In that, the League was on it's own.

For several hours that morning, Bruce and Clark had been working together in the training arena. They had effectively perfected their routines, making it look like Superman could do almost all those things he normally could. They had discussed the signals, both verbal and nonverbal for different plans of action. The others had observed and offered their two-cents' worth and by noon they were confident that they could pull it off… provided that everything Lex told them was correct.

And that had been the hardest thing for them all to swallow – believing Lex Luthor.

If Lex had been doubting Superman's condition, they all felt confident that he would at least be second guessing it after last night. Batman was able to testify that Clark's performance was damn near flawless. When they discussed different ways to deal with the hostage situation, Superman made sure to mention some of his more notable abilities – one's that J'onn wouldn't be able to replicate. By simply offering them as possible options, it showed that he was at full power, thus keeping Lex… _and_ Ultra uncertain.

With the game afoot, things were going as discussed. J'onn had made an appearance and was on-sight outside the building. Superman was in the thick of the action, using his trademark abilities. The others were standing by in support roles to make it look like a typical Justice League operation… and just in case.

As the craft cruised lazily above the clouds, both occupants were waiting for each bit of information from the city. Even though nothing today had given them reason to doubt Lex's intentions, their history with him was never far from the backs of their minds. It wracked their patience as they waited to hear that their colleagues hadn't met with grim circumstances simply because they actually allowed a taste of trust for their bald nemesis.

"I can't _stand_ this," Diana confessed, flipping a hand towards the monitors before them. "Just… _waiting._ If anything happens to Clark…"

"I know," GL cut her off. He was sick and tired of all his colleagues' talk about the 'what if' contingency. He had grown exasperated about all the vows people had voiced about what they'd do to Luthor _if_ they found out he was lying. He had even snapped at Shayera before taking off from the Watchtower because she started expressing second thoughts about the whole situation. Despite all this, his voice towards Diana was still one of empathy rather than frustration.

"But everything's going according to plan at this point," he continued, remembering to keep his voice even and polite… after all, he was talking to a pent-up Amazon. "It's hard not to worry, but worrying won't make things go any better. It _can_ however, take our mind off our mission and _that_ can make things go _worse_. So, let's just keep ourselves focused…"

Diana didn't hear the rest. She knew he was right. He was a trained warrior just as she was. And he was stating the exact same thing that she had learned about battle plans eons before he was born. They had a job to do; stand by until Dick and Barbara completed their tests, observe the situation in Metropolis and wait. Adding stress didn't help the matter at all. She knew that as well as John.

But with all that had been going on, she found that activity was truly the only way for her to not dwell on her life and the situation that she had found herself in. She also, painfully, found herself questioning her own faith in Batman and his intentions. It was so natural to trust him with Clark's life, but then again, that kind of trust in his actions had been tested lately. Waiting in the cockpit for the past few hours had thrust a disturbing amount of inaction into play and she couldn't help but quietly dwell.

Lantern wasn't much help either. While on a mission, he wasn't much of a conversationalist. All serious, all business and by the book… One of the only welcome interruptions to the boredom had been news from Oracle and Nightwing about an hour ago about some confirmed findings. Another had been, ironically, the alarm at LuthorCorp. With the 4:30 mark only a few short minutes away, Diana's nerves were growing unacceptably thin.

The communications light flashed and she practically lunged for the activate button.

"Hey guys," Flash's sullen voice sounded over the speaker, "it's gettin' to be that time… catching anything odd from your end?"

"Negative," Lantern reported mechanically. "Has Nightwing contacted you with anything new?"

"No, not ye- wait… speak of the dickens! I'll put him through… Go ahead, buddy, we've got GL and the Princess on line with us."

"OK, we've found some stuff. First, the virus would have seized up the entire Watchtower. The Teleporter System would have been activated and powered up. A couple minutes after that, the system would have listened for a specific transmission – we're still working on the details of that. But either way, the teleporter would have locked on to the location of the source of the transmission and made two transfers."

'_Two?_'' John silently mouthed at Diana.

"… The first action would beam up the person carrying the transmission source – the _target._ It would then teleport anybody that was within a 10-meter radius of the target to a set of specific coordinates."

"Do you have those coordinates pinpointed yet?" John demanded.

"Yes… we're transmitting them up to the Watchtower…"

"Yeah, I got 'em," Flash announced. "Sendin' 'em to you now, John."

"The timing of the other systems failing on the Watchtower cascades after that… once the target is on board, internal sensors and lockdown protocols would become disrupted…"

"…making us blind to whatever the _target_ was doing…" Diana observed.

"Exactly," Dick agreed. "Then, when the target switched the transmitter _off_, he would be sent automatically to roughly those same coordinates."

"That's how Clayface would get back," John acknowledged.

"Actually… he, or _they_," Oracle added. "It looks like the teleport routine would expect one or _two_ people to be sent down on that second transfer…"

"Now it makes sense!" Lantern declared. "This virus would have covered two possibilities; One, if Superman was _near_ the target at 4:30, then he'd be transferred to these coordinates, and Two, if he was aboard the Watchtower, then Mr. Target would be brought aboard to find him and they would _both_ get beamed down… again, to the same place!"

"The target could possibly have Superman _with_ him," Diana continued, following his logic.

"OK, can we stop saying 'target' now?" Flash begged. "We all know that it's s'posed to be Clayface doing all the dirty work…"

"So, now we know how Ultra was supposed to get Superman," Dick summed up. "But because we've intercepted the virus, it's not going to happen that way. We also know that some time soon, Clayface and Superman are supposed to change places or something like that."

"What time is it?" Diana asked.

"4:28" Barbara answered. "We've got a few minutes. If nothing's going to happen because we caught the virus, then we have to come up with something…"

That's when all five of them caught the violent explosion on the 18th floor of the LuthorCorp building on their respective monitors.

"OH SHIT!" Flash cried out over the coms. "What the… that _was NOT_ supposed to happen! Was it?"

"No! Hold on!" John ordered to Diana as he banked the Javelin towards the heart of the city.

* * *

"Stand back! Both of you!" 

Mercy and her security captain were standing over the motionless bodies of Superman and a LuthorCorp security guard. They turned to look out the shattered windows and saw the floating forms of The Martian Manhunter and Hawkgirl. The two heroes flew into the room quickly, J'onn checking on the guard, Shayera tending to Superman.

"It looks like Kryptonite, J'onn," Hawkgirl announced. "There's too much of it to clean up – we gotta clear the area. Get everybody out of here!"

"You heard her," Mercy snapped at her captain. "Move! Get the prisoners down to the holding cells!"

The senior man acknowledged her order and with a parting look at his fallen rookie, ran out into the hall and started barking orders.

Mercy turned back towards the injured guard and crouched down, reassessing his condition.

"Do you have medical training?" Mercy demanded of the Martian as he positioned himself near her injured man.

"Yes."

J'onn's eyes glowed fiercely orange as he tried to contact the victim psychically. He phased his hand through the guard's jacket and took note of the unusual angle of his torso. The Kevlar vest, helmet and dark safety glasses had blocked the shrapnel effectively, but his limbs, neck and his square jaw were bloody. J'onn agreed with Mercy's suspicion of possible spinal injury and also noted that the guard wasn't moving his extremities. He requested she call for the paramedics.

Mercy nodded in understanding and begrudging acceptance… The Marian Manhunter may just be the better person to handle such a medical situation.

"What about _him?_" she asked nodding to Superman.

"I'll get him to safety," Hawkgirl quickly answered, already down on one knee next to her teammate.

Mercy took a deep breath and forced herself to not lose her cool. Despite any run-ins that these so-called heroes may have had with her employer, they seemed to be genuine – at least today. Along with that, there seemed to be no hostility of any mention at the meeting last night… maybe she could trust them after all.

"His name is Bill," she told Manhunter, hoping that the Martian may have a better chance of communicating with her man if he knew something personal about him. Trying to reestablish her authority on the premises, she 'ordered' the two Leaguers to watch her guard as she stepped back a pace or two before turning to race out of the room. She was on her way to the elevators while she demanded an update on the whereabouts of the paramedics with her radio.

She was barking commands into the microphone as she waited impatiently for the sliding doors to open. When they finally did, she stopped in her tracks, not expecting the person that stepped out.

"Mr. Luthor!" she exclaimed and snapped straight up in surprise.

"What the hell happened?" Lex demanded stepping out and heading down the hall. Clearly he had been shaken up in the elevator when the explosion happened.

"Booby trap, sir."

Lex had stopped abruptly. He turned his head but didn't look at the young lady.

"What's the status?" he said in an all-business tone.

"One of my men is down and so is Superman. The primary crisis has been averted, but there's Kryptonite all over the lab…"

"_Kryptonite?"_ he turned and sharply eyed his assistant.

"Yes, sir."

For a disturbing moment, Lex looked worried, if not confused. His eyes darted around as his mind raced. Finally, his face grew stern once again and he ordered the young woman to expedite the paramedics and then he turned to march down the hall.

* * *

"I swear… I didn't know about any of _this_!" Lex admitted waving towards all the debris and Kryptonite strewn throughout the lab. 

Shayera didn't even bother to voice her disbelief; she simply grabbed her mace off her hip and made a lunge at the bald man in the expensive suit. Her huge green colleague caught her wrist mid-swing and held it firm.

"Don't!" J'onn ordered. "He wouldn't _be _here if he had known about the trap… he could have been caught in it too. We have to get Superman out of here and make sure…"

Before he could finish, a rolling blue flash disintegrated everyone in the room. Within a second, Superman, J'onn, Shayera and Lex had all reappeared inside an oblong windowless white compartment no larger than a semi trailer. The injured guard was nowhere to be seen.

"What the _hell_ is going on, here?!" Luthor demanded as he marched towards the nearest wall.

He balled his fist and raised it over his head like a club and slammed it against the cold, white surface. He was rewarded with a paralyzing shock that sent him flying off his feet.

"_You shouldn't have double-crossed me, Lex,"_ a haunting voice boomed throughout the room.

Shaking his groggy head, Lex propped himself up on one elbow and willed himself into clarity. It was evident by the coldness of his scowl how furious he was, yet his slow movements also showed how restrained he was forcing himself to be. He knew that he couldn't do anything at this point but bide his time... and plan.

"We are trapped within a neutral point energy field," J'onn explained, his eyes glowing brightly. He tried to help Lex to his feet, although his offer was not accepted. "As long as the field is energized, it will not allow any form of penetration from within. I am not able to phase through it… I doubt even Superman could break us free."

Lex missed Hawkgirl's guilty look at the mention of Superman and his abilities. Instead, she looked on the floor to find the Kryptonian coming to. Again, she knelt by his side and helped him sit up. Once he showed signs of lucidity, she returned her focus to destruction.

"Brute force might not be able to break us out, but what about…?" Shayera asked, holding up her mace, buzzing with power.

"Your mace may have a chance…"

That was all she needed to hear. As J'onn continued to say "… but it could be dangerous." she doubled her fists on her weapon's handle and swung with all her might, screaming out in her rage.

Lex covered his ears from the deafening impact as the mace slamming into the metal wall echoed and shook the whole room, forcing small dents where it struck. The strange material of her weapon absorbed much of the destructive forces that had knocked Lex on his ass, but enough still traveled up the handle into her arm. Despite her obvious pain, Hawkgirl swung again, and again, until…

"_You must think me a fool if you believed I wouldn't have predicted that, Hawkgirl," _the voice boomed.

The boasting didn't waver the heroine's determination to blast her way out of their prison, and she swung again.

"_It's time for you to settle down, little birdie…"_

The floor panel energized directly under Shayera's feet. The white and silver sparks and bolts of electricity raced around and through her body, causing her to convulse and cry out in agony. After what seemed an eternity, the crackling and shrieking stopped. Her mace fell from her hand, followed shortly by her limp body collapsing into a steaming heap on the floor. J'onn rushed to her side, trying to comfort her.

"_That must have been unpleasant,"_ the voice teased, _"and completely unnecessary. I assure you; the same pain awaits you all if any _one _of you is foolish enough to try that again!"_

"What do you want?!" Superman managed to call out weakly.

"_Don't patronize me. I know very well how much Lex told you all last night at your little meeting. If you didn't remember me from our previous encounter, Superman, then perhaps you can recall how I…"_

"I know who you are!" Superman growled, finally managing to stand. "And I know what you want. You're _not_ going to get it!"

The four prisoners heard the hoarse strains of laughter fading into a fit of coughing. The sound stopped abruptly, the audio feed obviously being cut in their captor's moment of weakness. A few short seconds later, the voice came back.

"_Perhaps you are relying on you _friends _to come and save you… Do you really think that I wouldn't have predicted that as well? In a few short moments, the entire Justice League will be my guests. I will have what I need, then I will decide how quickly and painfully the rest of you die."_

Before anybody could react, a blinding flash of energy split down the middle of the room, forming an impenetrable wall, separating Superman from the other three.

"Superman!" Sheyara called as she lunged towards the new wall.

"Don't!" J'onn warned yet again. This time, she listened and stopped her swing before it began.

The cell took on an eerie green glow on Superman's half. The other three captives watched helplessly as the huge man in blue sank to his knees, shouting, his face contorting with the torture.

"No!" Shayera gritted out through her clenched teeth.

Along the ceiling above the energy barrier, a small split formed, followed immediately by a solid white wall of metal slamming down – severing the prison in two. There was a low rumble and scrapping sound from outside the room for a few seconds, giving a sign that Superman's half was being moved away. After a few uncertain moments, the hissing and sizzling of energy stopped.

The silence was somehow more disturbing.

"J'onn…" Shayera turned to her teammate, deep worry set in her pretty face.

"I know…"

* * *

**Author's Notes Section**

**Hello everybody. After such a long gap between chapters 19 & 20, I've made a big effort to get the next several chapters more timely. I'm sure this has become a big pain in the neck for my beta - Kipling Nori. Not only does she help me clean up my messes, but she's also a darn good author. I would recommend any of her works if you enjoy Justice League stories.**

**Here is the part where I drop all kinds of 'Thank You' notes on all you readers and the extra special thanks to those that post reviews.**

**To BKK:  
You're absolutely right in that Batman's extra activities cannot be easily forgotten - but this Ultra/Lex thing is a bigger fish to fry right now!**

**To Rangerfan58:  
Does Clark have his powers back? Batman had to do all the work for him! They're still putting up the act until they figure out what's going on with all this Ultra Humanite/Lex Luthor/Clayface stuff.**

**One last note: I got a personal message from a reader that was curious on my take on the Ultra Humanite. I thought I'd share this with the rest of you. See, we all know that he's an albino gorilla in the cartoons. However, when I looked him up at different web pages, I found out that he was an old, bald evil scientist in a wheel chair. When I imagine _this_ version of him, I kinda picture a cross between two characters; Mr. Burns from "The Simpsons", and that old, rich, excentric dude from "Contact".**


	22. Chapter 22: Preamble

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 22: Preamble 

The Javelin hovered above the LuthorCorp building. John and Diana had flown down towards the gaping hole at the 18th floor to find smoke still oozing out in small columns. They landed among the wreckage of the lab and found Mercy Graves, still in her armored vest, along with two very confused paramedics.

"What have you done with him?!" she demanded, advancing on the heroes.

"We haven't done _anything_…" Diana stormed, marching right back at her accuser.

"Hold on!" John established, propping his arm out in front of Wonder Woman like a crossing gate. He turned back towards Mercy; "We just _got_ here. What's been going on?"

The shorter woman stopped and eyed the other two suspiciously, her lips pursed tightly in frustration. She took a deep breath in through her delicate nose and huffed it back out before regaining her calm. She half turned her head over her shoulder and dismissed the paramedics. She waited for them to exit before continuing.

"Mr. Luthor is gone. I left him here with the big green one and that _bird girl_ to go get the paramedics. When I got back, everybody was gone… just _gone_. Them, Superman, one of my guards… everybody."

Wonder Woman and Lantern exchanged serious glances. Without even discussing the next step, they both sprang to work.

Diana turned back towards the open window, and, with a hand to her ear, called to the Watchtower to get an update from Flash.

Green Lantern started scanning the area with his ring for evidence of anything extraordinary, but given the state of the lab, it was difficult to discern what was unusual and what was expected.

"How did all of this Kryptonite get here?" he asked as the green energy of his ring swept round the floor.

"An explosion," Mercy confessed, moving to stand next to John in a vain attempt to see what he saw. "There was a hostage situation. We had the suspects in custody and I had two men in here gathering evidence. One of the suspects triggered the bomb… presumably in a bag that they brought with them… The Kryptonite must have been in the pack as shrapnel. When I made it back in here, one of my men was down and so was Superman."

"You said that you had two men in here… what happened to the other one?"

"He was already out of the area when the bomb went off. He got banged up a bit, but he's OK. He's down in the ambulance right now…"

"Can I talk to him?"

Mercy studied John's green eyes carefully, suspiciously.

"Look, you people have done enough here already…"

"John!" Diana called from the end of the lab. "Flash says we need to get back to the Watchtower right away!"

John nodded and turned back towards the shorter woman in body armor.

"We'll be in touch," he assured her, then turned to fly out with his comrade.

"Oh, no!" Mercy protested. "If you've got some answers, then you're gonna give them to me _NOW!"_

She grabbed Lanterns elbow just as he started to lift off the floor.

The large man stopped and looked down at her firm grip, then slid his green eyes up to meet hers. He saw no signs of her backing down. He turned back to Diana for confirmation, and upon seeing her shake her head, he used the power of his ring to gently usher Ms. Graves back towards the shattered doors of the lab.

"_We'll be in touch,"_ he repeated, much to her disapproval.

Back in the Javelin, the two Leaguers strapped in and headed back into orbit at high mach. They were several hundred miles away from Metropolis when Diana flipped on the coms with Flash.

"Superman's OK," he told them.

"That's a relief," Wonder Woman said relaxing. "Do we know where he is?"

"I'm right here, Diana," Clark's voice sounded over the radio. "Flash teleported me up here, just like he was supposed to."

"He was?" John asked in true confusion.

Flash and Nightwing filled everybody in on the logic of the maneuver.

At the previous nights' meeting it was revealed that Clayface had been posing as a new LuthorCorp guard for several weeks. He had been ordered to do so by the Ultra Humanite. Luthor had secretly suggested that he take the shape of a person with roughly Superman's build. The impending caper at the LuthorCorp building was Ultra's way of getting Clayface and Superman near one another.

LuthorCorp security protocols call for the senior-most guards on the scene to escort prisoners to the authorities. That would leave the junior guards to 'clean up'. Since Clayface was one of the most junior, he'd be on clean-up detail.

True to form, Mercy had her two newest guards gather the evidence at the crime scene while she and the rest of the detail took the four thieves out of the building. Following his orders, Hagen was to get physically near Superman, then activate a transmitter hidden in his flak jacket.

However, in order to disrupt Ultra's scheme, the new plans had Clayface and Superman switch. When the two guards were the last ones left in the room, Hagen identified himself to Superman on the sly. He had even hid some prop blood packets in one of the pockets of his vest. Immediately after his colleague left the room, he melted out of his clothes and took on Superman's shape, while the real Superman was to don the uniform and activate the transmitter. Whatever Ultra was planning, the switch should have prevented him from getting a hold of The Man of Steel – hopefully.

What Superman and Clayface didn't know was the information discovered by Oracle and Nightwing. Clearly, the virus was the key to the bodysnatching, and the teleporter was the means. When Oracle had discovered the destination coordinates, she and Flash had used all available devices to scan the area. They found nothing… absolutely nothing. Which meant that the area was cloaked - protected by an electromagnetic shielding of some sort. It would have been impossible to teleport through it but somehow, something associated with Ultra's plans would have allowed the virus to penetrate it.

However, within seconds after Superman activated the transmitter, the Watchtower's sensors found that the shield around the coordinates was gone.

Thinking quickly, Dick had ordered Flash to manually perform the teleport while the shield was down. It was the best way to make sure Ultra still believed his virus was in control. It was also the only way to make sure that at least one of the good guys was _inside_ the shield. And just as Oracle had predicted, immediately after J'onn, Shayera, Clayface and Luthor were sent there, the shield reactivated.

"Flash _had_ to do it," Dick explained. "If he didn't, then Humanite would know the virus had failed and we'd be at a loss. He already has the area cloaked – clearly he's protected against an outward attack."

"You did the right thing then," John confirmed. Wonder Woman and Superman concurred.

((In all the confusion Flash wasn't sure the person he brought up to the Watchtower was the real Superman. So, he decided to challenge him;

"Hold it!" Flash had ordered, speeding in to block his path. "Prove that you're really Superman and not Clayface in disguise."

Superman shrugged unzipping his armor jacket.

"Let's see… Green Lantern beat you playing Battlefront II on Playstation just last month and you had to do his laundry for a week… Shayera teased you all morning about how last night you stared at Deloris Winters' cleavage… you once stole J'onn's Oreos as a prank only to find out they were booby trapped with neon orange paint bombs and it took 2 hours at super speed to clean your room… last spring Wonder Woman made you faint by blowing in your ear… and you keep your fuzzy bear slippers locked in your closet because you don't want Batman to put shaving cream in them again."

"_He_ did that? Why that…" Wally shook his head in anger, then remembered the topic at hand. "Oh, OK… I guess you're you then."))

As the Javelin neared the orbiting station, the team continued to review what had been happening and what their next move would be. But there was an underlying tone of traps and deception.

"There was no mention of a bomb last night!" John observed, clearly irritated.

"That's because nobody knew about it," Superman continued. "Not even Clayface – he was taken as much by surprise as I was."

"I don't think Lex knew about the bomb either," he grudgingly admitted. "He was on-sight soon after it went off… had his timing been different, he could have been caught in the blast – even J'onn had said so to Shayera. Oh, and by the way… J'onn knows that I'm not with them."

When Manhunter and Hawkgirl showed up onsite, they had already assumed the possibility that Clayface and Superman had swapped places – after all, that was part of the plan laid out last night – even if the explosion wasn't. J'onn confirmed it when he medically examined the 'guard' and sensed it was Superman.

"I don't know if he was able to tell Hawkgirl," Clark confessed. "You know that Thanagarians aren't too good for telepathic communications, but he said that they both suspected it. I wasn't able to get much more because the teleporters interrupted us. We lost mental contact almost immediately. Wherever J'onn is now, I can't contact him – or Hawkgirl."

"And I can't find a trace of their com links either," Flash added. "That shield is blocking everything."

"What's happened to Batman?" Diana asked, though everybody was wondering the same thing. He had become unreachable by com link - nobody had an answer.

The Javelin approached the Watchtower and the hangar doors slid slowly open. The four colleagues finished their briefing as the craft touched down.

The ramp lowered from the vehicle's belly. John and Diana trotted quickly down and made for the Teleporter Room. When they arrived, they found Flash setting the controls for another transfer and Superman standing by, looking like serious business.

"Clark," Diana started softly, but firmly, "was Batman there to protect you from the explosion?"

"I'm not sure," Superman shook his head uneasily. "I don't think he was."

"He _must _have been," she continued on, but seemed to be talking more to herself than the others. "Otherwise, how would you have survived it?"

"The bag was on the floor behind a counter," he explained not looking anybody in the eye, "and I was behind a large cabinet… I guess I was just lucky to be out of range of the blast."

"We only have a few minutes," Flash reminded them all, "before Ultra starts thinking that something's wrong."

The plans that Nightwing had helped them form would give the League a huge element of surprise. Flash was to perform the first teleport exactly on time. If they made it look like the virus was in control, then Ultra would be expecting Superman with one of the two transmissions. If he came with the first one, then Clayface should have come _alone_ with the second.

"He's expecting one ally," Wally observed with an enormous grin, rubbing his hands at super speed. "Instead, he's getting' three ass-kickers and a severely rude wakeup call!"

"Three?" Superman asked, cocking his head quizzically at his friend.

Flash's smile sank. He turned to Superman and remembered what assumptions can do to a person.

"That's right, Clark," Diana added, realizing what Flash was implying. "_You_ can't go down there… it's too dangerous."

The businesslike look on Superman's face dropped into disappointment. The excitement, the action… even without his powers, he felt like he was back in the swing of things. The old familiar feelings of being a hero easily took over and he was eager to continue on, bringing the battle to his enemy's doorstep – to _end_ this. But now, he was forced to confront reality again. Forced to remember that he was just a man.

He drew in a deep breath. His great frame slumped as he stepped off the teleported pad. With his handsome face solemn and his head tilted towards the floor ever so slightly, he walked around the console and calmly manned the controls.

"You're right," he admitted not looking up, turning the machine from automatic to manual. "I'll stay here and monitor everything. Make sure to keep your communicators on… just in case."

Upon hearing nothing, he glanced up to see his three friends looking at him with kindness and understanding. But the bitterness inside made it feel more like pity and condescension. His jaw tightened and he quickly darted his eyes back down to the controls.

"Everybody ready?" he asked tersely.

Upon hearing their solemn chorus of approval, he turned off Clayface's transmitter, then Clark Kent sent his friends to do battle for him.

* * *

"What's the _matter_ with you people?!" Lex's arms flew up in the air as he stormed and stomped. 

The quiet fury on Hawkgirl's face didn't make him flinch at all. Her green eyes belted out daggers in his direction while her mace started to hum to life.

J'onn's firm hand on her shoulder gave her pause.

Tilting her head towards her green colleague, she could read from his calm face that he knew of a reason to be passive at this point. She drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then let it escape as her mace powered down. She shook her head slightly and sat down on the floor.

"Aren't you even going to _do_ anything?!" Lex demanded, growing even more furious. "That _bastard_ out there is playing us all like _fools!_ He's got us trapped in here like rats. He's got Superman on his knees like a beaten puppy… Just… _DO_ something!"

"Wha'd'ya suggest?" Shayera asked with all the sarcasm in the world pumped into her voice.

"Well…" Lex flustered trying to think of something, _anything_ constructive. "Call your friends… Get _them_ down here to free us so I can personally break that old bastard's bloody neck!"

J'onn cocked his head almost imperceptibly as he noticed how Luthor abruptly changed the focus of his anger away from The League and towards The Ultra Humanite.

'_Interesting.'_

Up until that very moment, he had considered telepathically letting Lex know that the person trapped in the other cell was, in fact, Clayface. But with that little observation, and forcing himself to remember Lex's acute deceptive abilities despite his recent cooperation, he reconsidered letting that bit of information out. Not yet. Not until he was sure that Lex was really as much of a prisoner as he seemed to be.

J'onn had sensed the Superman/Clayface swap back in the LuthorCorp building while he was medically examining the 'injured guard'. It was then that he found out that the guard was actually Kal El. He subsequently sensed Clayface was posing as Superman. He had heard the first few thoughts of explanation from his disguised colleague just before the teleporter transferred them all to their respective locations. Now, within this energized pen, he no longer had mental contact with anybody outside.

Along with that, he was unable to communicate mentally with Hawkgirl. Thanagarian brains are notoriously difficult to contact telepathically. Shayera had never allowed him into her mind before and to try to intrude would not only be dangerous, but it would also be evident to anybody watching them as well.

Thus, J'onn considered that he may be alone in his knowledge of Clayface's situation. But Shayera had read his calmness and patience. The two would have to find subtle ways to communicate the critical details.

"They may be on their way," the Martian responded, "but they may have a difficult time figuring out where we are."

"Where _are_ we, anyway?" Shayera asked sincerely, looking up at the man in the Armani suit.

"I'm not sure," Lex said, calming down and showing no signs of lying. "Ultra has a warehouse full of equipment outside of Metropolis. You may recall from the meeting last night that I had some security cameras planted there."

Shayera nodded and glanced a confirming look at J'onn.

"However," Lex continued, "my sources tell me that he also has another lab and I have absolutely no clue where that is. I don't recall seeing anything as big as this container in his warehouse, so my guess is that we're in the secret location."

"Well, clearly we were teleported here," Shayera said sitting a little more upright. "Does Humanite have teleport capabilities?"

Lex scoffed.

"_Nobody's_ got that kind of technology," he said sorely, "except you and your f_riends._ If anybody else on this planet could come up with that kind of thing it would have been _me!"_

"So that would mean that somehow he was able to gain control of the Watchtower teleport system," J'onn reasoned. Immediately, his mind recalled the virus that Nightwing had reported the night before. He had heard very little about the nature of it, but it didn't take the world's greatest detective to figure out that the virus may have been responsible for their present location.

What's more, he, Wonder Woman and Nightwing all believed that they had effectively purged or isolated the virus on the Watchtower. If that was true, then it would have taken a person in orbit to actually teleport them into their cell.

"You think he has taken control of the Watchtower?" Lex erupted. "What is the _matter_ with you people? You can't even secure your own…"

J'onn didn't listen to the billionaire's ravings. Instead, he continued to build upon his theory that the rest of the League may be coming soon. He also tried to come up with a way to alert Shayera to his theories without letting Lex in on it. Even more importantly, without letting Ultra in on it.

Shayera, also trained with deductive reasoning, had come up with some very similar conclusions as her teammate. She had worked with Nightwing and Oracle earlier in the day with setting up a virtual simulation of the Watchtower computer systems in the Batcave and analyzing the virus. With her deductive reasoning in full swing, she was able to conclude that no matter how they got there, the teleport computers and tracking systems would have evidence of their location.

"… too much power and _nobody_ to answer too…" Lex continued to fume.

Keeping their silence within their prison, the two heroes stole a glance at each other when Lex had turned his back amidst his tirade. Shayera flashed her eyes upward, then downward while nodding almost imperceptibly. J'onn understood that she was signaling her belief that the rest of the League would soon be on their way down to their location. He nodded in agreement as well.

"Lex," J'onn interrupted politely, yet firmly, stepping directly in front of the irate man. "I suggest you calm down. It is a very real possibility that the rest of the members of the League won't be able to rescue us for some time. We need your help if we are to escape safely and keep Ultra from doing whatever it is he wants to do with Superman."

"Either that," Shayera added, following J'onn's lead and building upon it with her own twist, "or at least shut up so we can think!"

Lex abruptly stopped. His eyes darted between the huge green man and the winged woman with a touch of uncertainty. He then tilted his head away from them both, lost in thought for a second before muttering half to himself.

"You're right. Nobody outside is going to get us out of this."

Shayera allowed herself a moment of relief, seeing Lex calm down and maybe even become cooperative. She quickly felt her warm fuzzy turn into a jab of betrayal when the bald man shouted out.

"HEY! Humanite! I want to talk to you. Let me out of this blasted box and I'll make it worth your while!"

"Why you…" Shayera lunged for Lex once again. This time J'onn didn't stop her.

Before she reached her victim, however, the entire floor energized once again, sending all three occupants to the ground, writhing and groaning and screaming in excruciating pain. Out of the corner of her eye, Hawkgirl saw the barrier of white lightning form again, isolating Lex on his own portion of the room. The wall behind him opened up and a mechanical arm reached in, grabbing him rather harshly by the knee and dragging him away. The door slammed shut once again and the hissing and crackling stopped as quickly as it had started. Her own body still steaming and sore, she helped J'onn to his feet.

"You OK?"

"I will be shortly, thank you."

She rolled her head on her neck and stretched out some of the sore muscles in her arms and back. At a sly moment, she shot J'onn a knowing smile and he countered with a wink. Clearly they were being observed in one way or another, and both heroes knew it. If they couldn't get Lex to work with them, then getting him out of the way was a good second choice. They would have to work on a way to create a diversion and/or wreak havoc in Ultra's world when the cavalry arrived, and they'd have to do it with signals and coded phrases as to not let their captor know that they were on to something.

Once she finished her act of recovering, she turned towards the spot on the wall that had been a door just a few seconds ago, she gripped her mace tightly. Her sharp eyes looked for seams or weaknesses, but found none – just a hairline gap that would have gone unnoticed had she not seen the portal for herself.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" she asked J'onn rather loudly, not taking her eyes off the wall.

"I don't know. I'm more concerned about Superman."

* * *

"Watchtower to Nightwing," Superman called quietly. 

"Nightwing here. Go ahead, Superman."

"I just sent Flash, Lantern… and Diana down to the second set of coordinates that you and Oracle specified."

There was a short pause, but Dick heard an uneasy sigh on the other end.

"Dick, what do you think is going to happen down there?"

Worry.

Officer Grayson had heard it in so many forms from so many people and he's been the reassuring presence in so many lives… he just never thought he'd hear it in the voice of the a person his adopted father admired.

"I don't know," he responded truthfully.

Sitting all alone in the monitor womb, the mechanical and automatic noises and sights were just a little too cold. Clark needed some warmth, a human touch to keep his soul intact. He had just sent three of his best friends into battle and there was nothing he could do to help. He was about to beg Dick to say something… anything… make something up, but he didn't have to. The younger man continued on without being asked.

"But I gotta believe they're going to make that Ultra guy regret waking up this morning."

"Think so, huh?" Clark asked as lightheartedly as he could.

"Well, sure. Seems to me that the first set of coordinates put Hawkgirl, Manhunter, Clayface and Lex right into some kind of secure location. A holding pen maybe. The second set of coordinates probably won't be so extreme. Remember, Clayface is _supposed to be_ Humanite's lackey and he's _supposed to be_ coming alone... or with an injured, depowered or dead _you_. I'm sure there's security, but I'm also willing to bet that there isn't enough to stop Flash _and_ Lantern _and_ Wonder Woman."

Clark sat back feeling just slightly better than he did a moment ago, but not much.

"I know this man, Dick," he confessed. "He's as bad as they come. And I don't think I've ever gone up against anybody with a knack for covering all the bases like he does. Not even Luthor…"

"One of the original mad scientists, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, even if we hadn't caught the virus, I'll bet he _knew_ that we'd be able to trace the teleports after the fact. He already has that protective shield against us pulling people back out or sending more people in. We already know that we can't contact any of our people through their com links and J'onn's mind can't be reached. They went in there blind, Dick."

Clark paused, shaking his head.

"He knows that we'd be able to pin-point his location geographically. He'd count on that too and have all kinds of traps and weaponry ready for an external assault."

"That makes sense," Dick admitted with a sigh. He didn't want to add to the gloom of the situation, but sympathizing felt like the right thing to do. Besides, the logic was unshakable. So he just sat, listened and helped the troubled man work out his demons.

"I could have just sent everybody into a trap," Clark observed solemnly. "And there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

Dick didn't know what to say. He didn't know Clark Kent very well, but what he did know was that the man was virtually the perfect mix of strength and humility. The most amazing being to grace the face of the planet, with a personality to please even the most ardent of skeptics as well as a will to resist the easy temptations of power.

He was both a pillar and a friend to everybody in the League. Dick was fully aware of his selflessness… how, if ever a time of need arose, any one of them could count on Clark. And now Clark was counting on Dick.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Nightwing offered, glancing over his shoulder at Oracle, who was talking to someone on the Batclan channel. "There's a very important dimension that Humanite couldn't _possibly_ have considered…"

"What's that?"

"My dad."

* * *

"Superman's alright?" Batman asked again. 

"_Yes,"_ Oracle repeated loudly and clearly. She wasn't accustomed to being asked the same question three times - by him. "In fact Nightwing's talking to him now over the JL com link. Why aren't you in on that?"

"No."

'_No?'_ Barbara thought. _'That wasn't a yes/no question! Jeez, Bruce… what's got you so mixed up?'_

"Aaaalright, then," she said with forced patience, "what's your next move?"

He didn't answer.

"Batman?"

Again, there was too much silence.

"You there?" she asked, trying not to sound as concerned as she was.

"Give me the coordinates."

"You bet… sending them now…"

Barbara waited for Batman to drop further instructions. After a few impatient seconds, she politely prompted him.

"Anything else, boss?"

"Yes. Tell Clark… and if you hear from anybody else in the League, tell them…"

She didn't like the tone of voice that she heard. It wasn't business, it wasn't determination. No, it was something much stronger and more dangerous than that. It was almost chilling, like he was a man with nothing to lose. And just when she thought that her mind might just have been playing tricks on her, his voice became downright bloodcurdling.

"…I'm on my way."

* * *


	23. Chapter 23: Battle Dawn

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 23: Battle Dawn 

Lex opened his eyes and blinked hard.

His vision was a little blurry. His head and body ached. His shirt was damp with sweat. He hadn't been out for more than a couple minutes, but he felt like he'd been through a bar fight.

He was lying on a large leather sofa in what appeared to be a very tastefully decorated office. There were shelves of the finest quality woodwork holding countless volumes of classical literature - everything from Cicero to Plutarch as well as more contemporary selections. There were other shelves with vinyl records and CD's. At one end of the room was an enormous desk made of red oak.

Next to the desk was an antique hand-wound record player, its huge phone directed towards the center of the room. Softly, a scratchy recording of D'Vorak's "Stabat Mater" was playing.

Behind the desk were three sets of tall French doors. The room looked like it was designed with a scenic view in mind, as every seat within was angled towards that end. Except for the person that would be sitting at the desk… and curiously, there was no chair behind the desk.

The other curious thing was that the view outside was dark with spots of artificial glow from above - perhaps some overhead lights washing down to unseen places below.

Lex sat up and looked around. There was a set of large wood panel doors at other end of the office. Ignoring his headache, he got up and tried the antique brass handles.

Locked.

He turned and made for the glass doors behind the desk. As he drew closer and could focus past the reflective glare and make out a spacious balcony. Beyond that, it looked as if the view was nothing but the internals of a huge structure.

The balcony doors opened easily. He walked to the stone banister and looked at his surroundings with a building sense of awe. It was as if an industrial warehouse had been built around the back wall of a stately chateau. From his perch three stories up, he took in the scene in amazement. Huge machines, high power cables, dozens of civilian workers, armed guards and automated assistants… the place hummed like a well-oiled machine.

"Welcome to my _other_ laboratory, Lex."

Luthor whirled around to find his host slumped in a new, motorized wheelchair at the threshold of the doors. Somehow, he looked like he had aged ten years since last night. He was followed by four armed guards who took post; two inside the office, two on the balcony. Their presence was ominous, leaving Lex to contemplate the severity of the situation. Until he knew for sure, he would have to simply talk despite his urge to thrash the old man. Talk and wait.

As always, Ultra was in his white lab coat. He commanded his joystick to move his chair forward. He joined Lex at the stone railings and looked out at the vast expanse of equipment and activity below him.

Lex watched him as he traversed the balcony and waited for him to say more. His host said nothing but simply marveled at his own creations. Giving in to the curiosity, Lex again looked out at the view with more analytical eyes. As he observed, Ultra pointed out different items.

"Those are the holding cells. You saw one from the inside," Ultra said motioning towards four large, rectangular objects at the far end of the expanse. Each had various devices, coils and hoses, tubes and panels attached to the outside. Two of them seemed to be energized as evident by the cores of the electronic coils glowing purplish-pink.

"Superman is in the smallest one on the left," he continued. "His friends are in the one next to it. The other two are standing by for further guests. In fact, Mr. Hagen should be returning from his adventure shortly, right into cell number three."

Not far from those containers there was a large glass tank of clear bubbling liquid. Above it were structures holding countless hoses, tubes, harnesses and cables. A heavy fog was spilling off the liquid and over the edges of the tank, dissipating before it hit the floor.

"Cryogenics?" Lex asked, nodding at the tank.

"Why, yes," his host answered pleasantly. "A good friend of mine is the utmost authority on that subject. Victor has shown me a very useful procedure - how to perform surgery on frozen bodies in order to repair massive organ trauma without affecting other systems in the body. It eradicates the need for anesthetic and it allows for indefinite periods of incubation, if a suitable organ donor isn't found promptly, for example. The only disadvantage is the danger associated with improperly reviving the frozen tissue... but I have that mastered."

"What do you plan to do with it?"

"Well, nothing, actually. You see, had Superman been critically injured, I would have had to repair his body. Weakening the cells under Kryptonite radiation then freezing his body would allow me to perform any necessary procedures at will..."

"Then what?"

"Ah," Ultra said holding up a crooked finger. "_That_ is where my _masterpiece_ falls into play."

He wheeled over to the right edge of the balcony and motioned towards a large device that resembled an MRI machine with two slabs – presumably on which two people would lay.

"I won't trouble you with the particulars of that machine," he explained with a far off look on his face and a hint of pride in his voice. "Let's just say that it will be the crème de la crème of the day!"

Lex pondered the machine, his theory of Ultra's plans and the information from Clayface. Clearly, that would be the device that somehow transplants Ultra's brain into Superman's body.

Beyond that machine were large cages, some empty, some containing different animals; lions, bears, gorillas… even a large wolf.

Then there were the devices Lex had no understanding of at all. One was a huge apparatus with a conveyor belt that snaked through two large machines. It seemed to be switched off.

There was another machine that had a spherical object with cables radiating out of it in all directions. It was suspended above an upright metal cylinder where robotic devices were still welding on panels. He could hear the arcing echo above the music drifting out of the office behind him.

"And that one?" Lex asked.

"That one is, regrettably, not yet completed," the tired man admitted with a tone of frustration. "In fact, I still have several tests to finish before it is ready. When it is, my life's work will finally be realized."

He paused, smiling.

"We're almost done," Ultra said quietly, happily. "Clayface will be here any second… and soon after, so will the rest of the League."

"The _rest_ of the…"

"Don't tell me that you didn't anticipate a retaliation!" Ultra scoffed. "We have their _leader_ in that pen! We have two more of their numbers as well… They'll come, of that you can be sure. You can also rely on remaining safe and sound here with me."

"You think you're safe from an all-out assault from the _Justice League?!"_ Lex practically laughed.

The invalid turned his chair to face his guest, his expression torn between anger and confusion.

"Why do you continue to underestimate me? You became angry when I planned the ACCORD attacks and used the Achilles Device on Superman, yet it not only worked, but it made your stock prices soar, while completely freeing you from involvement. You scoffed when I told you that I wanted to acquire Superman's body, yet we have him in our control. You laughed when I suggested we infiltrate the Watchtower, yet Mr. Hagen is up there _as we speak_. I think you need to understand, Mr. Luthor, that I am the most intelligent being you will ever meet… and my plans _always_ prove successful."

Lex's face fell with a realization. He was right.

The crippled old man wanted to capture Superman and he had him. From the beginning, he wanted Superman's body – dead or alive.

Lex straightened up and took a deep breath through his flaring nostrils. He set his jaw square and coupled his hands behind his back as he thought. Business, politics, answering without answering… he thought he had all those arts down to a science. For weeks, he had relished the concept that Ultra had been underestimating him. Perhaps _he_ had been the one underestimating _Ultra_ all along. He only hoped that he had been clever enough to hide his alliance with the League.

From the beginning, Lex had suggested that they take the 'good cop/bad cop' approach, making it look like Ultra was the mastermind and Lex was really on the League's side. Ultra had concurred. It was a natural continuation of his original plans. After all, the ACCORD incident had been executed without Lex's knowledge for a reason – to establish their relationship such that Lex could fund Ultra's plans while still maintaining plausible deniability, and thus a degree of innocence.

The computer disk was Ultra's idea and he had given his input on ways for Lex to provide critical information about the Achilles Device without spilling too much or incriminating himself. The farce of feeding important data to the League would only further the concept that Lex was not the League's enemy.

When Lex had actually provided critical information and plotted with the League at the meeting last night, he had done so believing that Ultra would be none the wiser. Perhaps the old man had known, or at least suspected all along. Perhaps the explosives in the lab were a means to disrupt the swap – clearly it seemed to have done so. A trap like that would have been discussed last night if Hagen had known about it. Since no such information was divulged, then clearly Clayface was in the dark about it just as much.

Was this yet another example of The Ultra Humanite planning for every eventuality? Or was Ultra aware of Lex's betrayal?

Luthor internally chastised himself for getting too sloppy. He had grown overconfident in believing that he knew Ultra's weaknesses. He had become complacent – even arrogant about it. Now, he was reduced to standing by, watching helplessly as the events unfolded around him.

"Tell me how you did it," Lex requested cryptically.

"I planted a virus on the computer disk," Ultra admitted. "It has taken over the Watchtower. That is how I managed to use their own equipment to capture you, Superman and his fellow aliens. It was written to bring anybody _near_ Mr. Hagen here – you and the others were simply at the right place at the right time. It would also send Matthew up to the Watchtower, where he will take on the form of one of them and perform his search."

"What is he searching for?"

"Just in case it wasn't the _real_ Superman in your labs, he was to look for him aboard the Watchtower, then report back here with him."

"Did you think that Clayface could defeat Superman on his own?"

"Well, first of all, it would be highly unlikely that he would have to deal with a fully-powered Superman… Don't forget, I still believe that the Achilles Device worked."

"But I'm still not so…" Lex declared, searching for _anything_ to weaken his counterpart's position.

"Yes, I know… there are sparks of evidence that suggest otherwise," Ultra grumbled, annoyed. "I still maintain that it _did_ work, only they must have found a way to restore him – after all, I did."

He motioned to the equipment that was still under construction.

"Besides, Matthew won't need to _defeat_ him," Ultra explained arrogantly, "just be _near_ him. The virus would teleport them both down into cell number three. Since I already have the real Superman, I expect that Matthew will return alone."

"What if he's _not_ alone?"

"The cell will automatically energize if two people are received. The floor plates can turn on instantly, but the energy field binding the walls takes a few moments to warm up before it can engage. And as you saw, I have installed Kryptonite radiation devices within the cells."

Lex didn't respond. He was still trying to keep himself from being impressed with Humanite's thoroughness. As he vainly looked for holes in the plots, his host continued.

"We are surrounded by a cloaking shield, you may remember the plans for that – we had discussed them some time ago. This shield protects our location from various forms of energy. That would include unwanted teleportation as well as scans… The Lantern won't be able to use his ring while traversing the perimeter… even the Martian's telepathic abilities are blocked."

"You know," Humanite continued, cocking his head with a smile, "as much as I plan, I'm still amazed at how luck favors the prepared… or fate, if you like. The fact that the Martian was near Matthew at just the right time – and subsequently in holding cell number two instead of aboard the Watchtower – makes my friend's job that much easier."

Ultra navigated his chair to the other end of the balcony and motioned towards an impressive control room behind several large windows.

"Our energy shield was activated immediately after the four of you were sent here. It will temporarily go down once Matthew deactivates his signal. He will then be able to teleport here as well. Otherwise, we are impervious from the League sending anybody else. They will have no communications with any of their members in our midst."

"And what about an external assault?" Lex asked out of curiosity. He had already started to abandon the idea of finding flaws in Ultra's plans.

"I have strategically placed defensive components. We are surrounded by the electromagnetic shield, as you know. It will deactivate their Javelin aircraft… even their emergency eject won't work if they try to fly in. I have chemical traps in place, complete with a little cocktail mixed up by an associate of mine, Dr. Jonathan Crane. We also have conventional weaponry… machine gun emplacements, mortars, surface to air missiles, mine fields…"

Lex listened to the long list of contingencies, crossing each device against what he knew about each member of the League. And while one or two items may be easily neutralized by this member or that, and while as a whole team, they may have been able to amass an effective assault, it seems that they would have a devil of a time trying anything if they were less than full force.

As if sensing what Lex was thinking, Ultra expounded on the idea.

"We have Superman. He would have had the best chance against our defenses. Normally, conventional weapons would have been useless against the Martian, but we have incendiary devices set aside for him. Wonder Woman could withstand the energy field and most of the conventional weaponry, but according to my research, she is not impervious to Dr. Crane's particular gas. And the rest… well… Flash and Hawkgirl will have problems with the fleet of second-generation ACCORDS I've designed. And Green Lantern… if he ever manages to make it _inside _the shield, he would be a problem. However since he won't be able to _penetrate_ it… well, he will be just as ineffective as Batman."

"You're not concerned with Batman?" Lex asked genuinely curious.

"Oh, Lex," he laughed, almost sliding into a coughing fit. "Do you think that a normal human being with a belt full of _toys_ can pose a threat to us? If my defenses could stop _Superman_, what chance would _he_ have? The systems in place would utterly _destroy_ any person fool enough to attack us, I don't care how many back flips he can do."

Lex considered the statements deeply. While he had simplified the Dark Knight with his words, Ultra didn't bother to hide his confidence in his planning. Or was it over-confidence? Lex had no love for Batman, but he had learned the hard way to not underestimate him. But in light of the situation – every possibility did seem to be covered – perhaps that particular hero was nothing more than a minimal threat.

"As I said earlier, my friend," Ultra continued, his voice taking on a decidedly chilly tone, "I account for everything. Even the possibility of betrayal."

This caught Lex's full attention. And as good as he was at concealing his innermost thoughts and feelings, in this situation, he couldn't keep his face from showing the tension he felt.

"When the League contacted you about an impromptu meeting yesterday, it occurred to me that you or Mr. Hagen might actually try to deceive me and corroborate with them."

Ultra moved his chair back towards the center of the balcony to afford a better view of the holding pens as he talked.

"By keeping Ms. Winters close to me, I have secured Matthew's allegiance," he revealed before turning to look Lex square in the eye. "And by allowing you to run your computer disk on the machines in your office, my virus will now hold you to _your_ word."

Infuriated, Lex's eyes widened, his teeth started to grind and his fist flexed unabashedly. He reigned in his instincts to lunge at the crippled man when his peripheral vision caught the armed guards shifting their weapons.

"And what do you expect will happen?" Lex asked calmly after taking a second to compose himself.

"If the day proves that you haven't betrayed me, then you'll be released when all this is over," he replied matter-of-factly. "I have no quarrel with you, Lex. That is why I had you placed comfortably in my office. Despite our differences, I don't believe that you are my enemy, and I hope you believe the same about me."

Lex glared at the invalid out of the corner of his eye.

"I made a point of not showing any signs of mercy or amity while you were in the holding cell with those monsters."

Ultra leaned forward to secure his attention and continued on with a touch of pleading in his voice.

"Just as we discussed, Lex. As far as they know, you are on _their_ side against _me_. Isn't that how it was supposed to go?"

Ultra turned his chair away from Luthor. He had enlightened Lex about all of his plans and machinery now, at the end of the day, because when it was all over, either Lex would be irrevocably on his side or dead. And if it should be the latter, then the old man justified his confessions by cataloging it out of respect – after all, he did finance the whole operation.

He waited long enough to make sure Lex had enough time to give an answer. When none came, he knew that his last effort to keep an ally had failed. As the seconds ticked away, it became evident that their alliance was indeed over.

Lex looked down his nose at his invalid counterpart. His fascination of their surroundings now gone, he suppressed his boiling anger and switched into his coldest, most mechanical and cynical manner. Many an opponent had witnessed those unfeeling eyes… that emotionless tone of voice just before their world shattered by his hand.

"You've gone too far," he declared simply, turning to look out at an unknown point a thousand miles away, "Not just with the virus… I could list all the ways you stepped over the line, but you already know them don't you? If the Justice League doesn't kill you today, I will."

There was no need to get excited. There was no need to rant or rave. There was no reason to take physical action at this time as he knew that Ultra had weapons trained on him from the moment he was extracted from his prison. No, action now wasn't Lex's solution, but his declaration would set the tone. If Ultra wanted him dead, he would have killed him by now, but either way, Lex would have preferred to die than be held under this madman's thumb.

The man in the wheelchair was simply going to lose because Lex willed it. Now, more than ever, Lex knew without a doubt that this pathetic genius was his enemy and worthy of all of his wrath.

Ultra didn't respond, but his smile spread ever so slightly. Cocky and arrogant to the last, he didn't look up or respond to the threats.

"Goodbye, Lex," he said plainly.

The motors of the wheelchair whirred as the old man backed away from the railing and turned to retreat through the glass doors. Lex stood still, watching the machinery far below. He heard the wooden doors from the other end of the office close followed by the telltale signs of locking mechanisms.

Again, he was alone. Below him would be the battlefield. And at the end of the battle, he would still be standing.

His revenge wouldn't be immediate, but it would come soon.

* * *

The liquid nitrogen drained down the pipes that snaked their way along the walls and into the holding cell, where, among the green glowing, there lay a young actor playing the role of a lifetime. 

He wasn't physically in any pain, yet one wouldn't be able to tell by watching or listening to him. He would writhe and grunt, then alternately, he'd tense up and grind his teeth. All the while, he acted as if energy was being zapped from his body and he was winding down like an old watch.

He knew he had an audience of one. Without a doubt, he was giving a perfect performance because he also knew that the love of his life was somewhere else in this building and also trapped like him.

Matt Hagen awoke this morning next to an empty space rather than his warm fiancé. He searched his apartment and found an unfamiliar cell phone on the coffee table. As soon as he picked it up, it rang. Uneasily, he answered it and his fears were realized. Humanite was on the other end.

The old man outlined for the umpteenth time how Matt was to perform all the duties expected of a LuthorCorp guard in an emergency situation that afternoon. He outlined how Superman would make an appearance to save the day, and when he did, Matt was to make sure to position himself near the hero during the cleanup effort, then activate a device sewn into his Kevlar vest. There was also the contingency that, if Matt were to find himself on the Watchtower, he should take on the shape of any hero necessary and search for Superman. Once he found him, or proved that he was not onboard, he was to turn the device off.

With his obvious impatience, Matt suffered through the old man's droning, just wanting to get it over with. But his heart stopped when Ultra mentioned that Deloris was there with him for 'safe keeping.'

His words said that there was nothing to worry about, that she would be assisting him in some experiments. His tone, however, suggested that Matt had better not fail or his beautiful fiancé would pay hell for him.

After hanging up the phone, Matt mechanically made his way downtown, through the Metropolis rush hour confusion and to the service entrance of the LuthorCorp building. His whole situation ate at him like a disease. A power-hungry madman was tossing him around like a toy, forcing him to do his dirty work. His fiancé was trying to steer him through the dangerous waters, only to find herself in mortal danger. Lex had cleverly lulled him into a false sense of importance, when it was now clear that he was just using Matt to one-up Humanite. He had never felt so powerless in all his life.

The only thing left was to make sure that Ultra did, in fact, lose. He didn't know how much evil resided in Lex's soul, but he did know that Ultra was a person that should be behind bars, if not six feet under. And with what little he knew, it seemed that the deal struck with the Justice League would be the best way to make sure that happened.

Before the League had arrived, Lex had confessed last night that Ultra was aware of the meeting. However, Ultra had expected the meeting to be topically about the ACCORD incident and how both parties could work together in their investigations. It was _supposed_ to be a way for Ultra to find out what the League knew. When the meeting was over, Matt and Deloris didn't know if they were in the frying pan or the fire. All they did know was that things had been discussed and disclosed that were very sensitive to Ultra's plans.

And Matt didn't like it at all.

All the run-ins that he'd had with Batman over the years had made him fairly cynical, if not down right defiant of the law. But when it came to world domination and murder, Matt couldn't find it in himself to side with Humanite. Nor could he cleanly side with Luthor, as he didn't know exactly what side he was on. But he _did _know where the Justice League sat. And even though Luthor may be akin to a snake, siding with the Justice League would at least give him some form of control over his situation.

He had waited in the stairwell with his fellow guards and Mercy Graves. He wondered how much she knew, but eventually decided that it didn't matter. He had a role to play and he was going to play it – not only for his own sake, but for Deloris's.

Things went just as he was told they would. Superman showed up and saved the day. Matt and another rookie guard were left with the grunt work of gathering the suspects' equipment. As expected, Superman was in the room and Matt made his identity known when his colleague wasn't watching.

It only took a second for Matt to pour out of his uniform and contort himself to look like The Man of Steel. But that's when all hell seemed to break loose.

Matt had caught a huge amount of the blast, but quickly pulled his body back together. He was dazed, angry and somewhat bewildered by what happened. It took an effort for him to remember that he was still in a very sensitive situation. By the time he did, he saw that Superman had finished donning the flak jacket. Matt quietly told him about the blood props and the activation device before Mercy and her captain entered the room.

After that, he didn't know what to expect. Having never been teleported before, he simply kept his appearance as neutral as possible through the experience. After all, he was supposed to be Superman taken down by a Kryptonite blast. He played the role of an injured hero until he knew that he was in an environment that would suggest he be otherwise. He had absolutely no idea who knew that he was not the real Superman, and until he did, the show would go on.

And now the curtain was coming down, although he not aware of it. It was obvious from the tell-tale green glow that he was being subjected to Kryptonite radiation. He had studied enough video footage to know how to play the part of the Man of Steel suffering such torture. But as he lay twisting on the floor of the cell in 'pain', he was oblivious to the unimaginably cold substance that was flowing his way.

Through his performance, he caught signs of curious happenings; the sounds of fluid bubbling through hoses, the opening of small holes in the ceiling and walls of his cell, the small amount of vapor oozing out of those holes. But when the frigid liquid gushed forth, spraying him, freezing him in place, he cried out in unworldly pain.

He didn't care about Superman or playing roles anymore. The first droplets that hit him felt like stilettos piercing his body, making him forget everything but the agony. He even forgot his beloved Deloris. He felt his limbs and extremities flex involuntarily before going numb. His face had a split second to contort before freezing; his mouth and eyes open wide and unmoving. The voice that screamed in that short time was his own.

By the time his body solidified, he still appeared to be Superman with a pathetic and horrid expression of torture. The only evidence that this being was Clayface and not Superman was the scream, now silent. And fortunately for his fiancé, nobody noticed the change in voice.

* * *

The wheelchair hummed as it moved along the warehouse floor. Ultra passed his Transference Device, and looking up towards his left at the other bald man on the balcony, he entered his master control room and took stock of his system readouts. 

"I expect Mr. Hagen within the next few minutes," he said half out loud. The two technicians in the room with him nervously acknowledged his prediction. The beautiful young actress handcuffed to a folding chair in the corner shivered in fear.

As if on cue, an indication on a communications panel activated.

"The beacon has been deactivated, sir."

"Excellent!" Ultra smiled. "Right on time! Verify the shield is down… good. Turn on the cameras for cell number three, please. I expect he should be alone… you should be able to open the door when he arrives."

He rotated his chair to look at Deloris.

"I'm sorry for the harsh conditions, my dear," he tried to admit with mock sympathy, "but you can never be too careful."

He turned his chair back to the monitors in time to see the building blue and white blast of light announcing the arrival of a teleportation. When it faded, Humanite's jaw dropped like lead.

Instead of seeing Clayface alone, he saw Flash, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern.

For a split second, the paralyzed scientist flushed with ultimate satisfaction; he considered that the remaining three Justice League threats had just fallen into his trap. They would not be able to escape the holding pen they had beamed into.

Then he remembered; the pen would only energize if _two_ people arrived.

"Oh, no…" he uttered involuntarily. Taking a second to recover, he frantically barked out orders.

"Energize the cell! Activate the floor plating – full power!"

He lunged for a microphone on the announcement console.

"All units! Converge on holding cell three! Activate the ACCORD defense drones!"

His crippled finger released the announce button. He stared, slack jawed at his monitors, so absorbed in their images that he failed to recognize that the activity they showed was actually happening right outside the large plate windows behind them.

The sound had not been turned on, but the screens before him showed the actions of the new arrivals. Flash immediately began running laps inside the pen, looking for weaknesses. He stopped, said a few words to his colleagues who immediately went to work.

Wonder Woman wound up and delivered an enormous spinning back kick to one of the walls, bursting a few of the paneling seams. The sound of the impact echoed throughout the warehouse, calling Ultra's attention to look out the windows.

Lantern powered up and fired a concentrated beam at another wall, searing a slice through the metal.

Flash immediately started attacking one of the walls, causing it to vibrate at a critical frequency. The whole cell began to shake into a blur.

Before they walls failed, however, the floor plating finally sprang to life and paralyzed the three with excruciating pain. Flash fell to his knees, still struggling and fighting to break them all free. Wonder Woman stood her ground and resorted to punch at the walls, gritting her teeth and raging out inhuman sounds of determination. Lantern, caught off balance, had fallen onto his side and was curling up with involuntary contortions from the energy.

For a few uncertain seconds, Ultra watched as his new captives struggled against his devices. He tried to calculate how long it would take to energize the shielding of the cell and cross that with how long the floor panels could incapacitate the heroes. With each passing second, with each punch Wonder Woman threw that was weaker than the last, it appeared that he may have actually captured the rest of the Justice League. As the fierce Amazon swung her arm one last time, her fist landing harmlessly against the white metal surface, Ultra's smile started to spread in triumph.

Before he was able to fully believe his luck, however, it changed.

John Stewart was no stranger to pain and suffering, although this sort of torture was more extreme than most humans had felt and lived to tell about it. He lie writhing and seething on the metal floor, the energy slicing through his body, making his skin sizzle and rip. Through blurry eyes, he saw his friends falling to the same fate, and that was all it took. It's one thing to mess with a man like John, it's another thing to assault the comrades of a former Marine and member of the Green Lantern Corps.

His face contorted with with a super-human effort. His teeth clenched hard. Every muscle in his body strained against the pain coarsing through him. His green eyes flew open wide and he unleashed a primal scream that could be heard throughout the warehouse. And on his right fist, clenched tight and shaking wildly, his ring started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter, blindingly bright. The security cameras within the cell failed at its illumination.

And a split second later, the entire holding cell exploded into countless shards of flying debris, scattering all over warehouse. Sparks flew and hoses flopped about wildly as their contents spewed out in all directions. Smoke and dust blasted out off components that were pelted by the shrapnel. And there in the middle of it all stood three mighty heroes, their energy renewed and their determination cemented in their eyes.

They were met with half a dozen armed guards, all in position and taking aim, their red LASER sights dotting all over the three Leaguers' bodies. Before they could fire, a green bubble appeared around their targets, shielding them from the spray of bullets.

Standing irate, yet calm within the protective glow, Wonder Woman took stock of her companions. Flash was up and itching for action. GL, although panting and sweating hard, was quickly building up for a fight. She took one last glance around, then laid out their plans.

"I'll look for Shayera and J'onn. Lantern, you look for Lex and Ultra. Flash, you take care of these clowns."

The two men nodded.

The split second Lantern let his ring die down, Flash blazed around the area, summarily disabling weapons and knocking out armed lackeys. He made four round trips to ensure that each and every one of the goons was out for the count and every gun had been irreparably destroyed.

Lantern launched into the air. Keeping a protective surface of green energy around himself, he fended off more gunfire from the incoming waves of assault guards rushing into the area. Through the barrage of bullets, smoke and dust, he could make out the wall at the far end of the warehouse – it looked like an ivy-covered ornate brick surface with various windows and balconies. He made a mental note to head that way after he dispatched the new armed menace gathering on the floor below him.

It didn't take Diana long to piece together her other colleagues' whereabouts. The remaining ruins of her own holding cell gave clues that the structures to her right and left were also such prisons. And taking an educated guess that the pen with actively glowing and humming components was the one she needed, she made short work of ripping off energized coils, smashing electrical paneling and ignoring the pain shooting through her body as she did so. She ripped virtually every hose and cable and device off the outside surfaces before she started ripping the metal walls apart with her bare hands.

When she stopped and readjusted her position to further the destruction, she heard a female voice from inside suggest that she stand back.

A short second after the warning, a signature yell and a loud crash announced the freedom of Shayera and J'onn J'onnz.

The League was now free and ready for business.

* * *

**AN: OOOH, the tension! Can you feel it? HA! Next Chapter: Unto The Breach**

**I'll make a deal with you all; ****I have the next chapter ready and waiting to be posted, but I ain't-a-gonna do it. See, I had a plan to post a chapter a week - gives da peoples time to read 'em. After all, they're pretty long.**

**BUT I'll post the next chapter either next Monday OR after I get at least 5 reviews (or 5 reviews + 10 personal messages). How do you like dem apples?**


	24. Chapter 24: Unto The Breach

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 24: Unto The Breach 

"Oh, this guy's gonna pay!" Hawkgirl announced, gripping her mace to life.

Standing amongst the wreckage of what used to be her holding cell, the winged heroine scowled as she marched through the debris and prepared for battle. Flash and Wonder Woman joined her on her left and J'onn stood calmly, yet determined on her right.

Above the four, Green Lantern floated, firing bolts of green power at the few remaining henchmen shooting at him. When the last of the weapons had been destroyed, he announced his perspective of the situation.

"It looks like we'll find Ultra and Luthor at that end of the warehouse," he called down to his colleagues, pointing towards the brick and glass and ivy a hundred meters away. "But we got incoming!"

His warning was punctuated by a barrage of gunfire from thirty airborne assault robots. They appeared to be modified versions of the ACCORDS that the League had fought not three months ago between the Metropolis docks and the Federal Reserve. However, these devices seemed to be more maneuverable, better armed and with heavy shielding. And they showed neither mercy nor consideration for their surroundings as they launched their assault on the League.

Immediately, two ACCORDS linked together and blazed through the air at Lantern. He put up a defensive shield to block their assault, but he failed to see the third robot that had used the diversion to flank him from his left. The unit didn't fire any weapons, but simply tackled the hero in the air and smashed him through the exterior wall of the warehouse. The metal assailant continued his trajectory, driving Lantern with him through the air and over the nearby hills. As John finally shifted his body and gathered enough of his wits to use his ring, the robot sputtered and gyrated in mid-flight. A split second later, it died altogether, and showed absolutely no signs of activity.

Streaking through the sky on a ballistic freefall with the lifeless metal hulk still clinging on to him, John commanded his ring to power up so he could return to the fight.

It didn't light.

He tried again, willing his ring to arrest his decent.

Again, the ring stayed dark, stayed cold.

That's when John Stewart noticed the light yellow haze all around him and the hairs on his arms standing on end. He was hurtling through the shell of the energy shield that Ultra had constructed around his lair and it was rendering his ring useless.

Having only a split second to think, John was able to twist and climb and position himself onto the back of his metal companion. The combined mass of the dead ACCORD and the powerless hero fell like a comet, crashing through tree branches and impacting the ground like a cannonball. John's body tossed around like a rag doll, his arms flailing, his legs flopping as he skidded across the land. He came to rest under a willow tree, bruised, bloody and battered. He had three broken ribs and a collapsed lung. His left leg had a compound fracture and one of his elbows was dislocated. Struggling to the last, he finally passed out before he heard Superman call his name over the com link.

* * *

Flash blazed across the warehouse floor. Using sound tactical logic, he left the airborne menace to his flying colleagues while he mopped up the ground threat of armed guards. Dodging the bullets was simple enough and he didn't have much difficulty destroying the odd weapon or taking out a guard. The problem Flash had was trying to deal with the lab technicians and workers that were fleeing for their lives amongst all the chaos. 

In a pinball move, he banked off the strong metal surfaces of a heavy machine and dove his shoulder into the gut of a particularly dangerous gunman. The two tumbled across the floor and with a quick punch across the jaw, Flash had put him down for the count. When he regained his feet, however, he found no less than three red spots of light on his chest and forehead. He had just started to smile viciously, formulating the path he would take to neutralize this latest threat, when he saw that all three assailants were pulling their trigger and two young ladies in white coats were running directly into the bullets' paths.

The rhythmic roar of each round being fired rang in his ears and he kept an eye on each projectile as he streaked across the concrete floor on an intercept coarse. Working as fast as he could without injuring the first young lady, he managed to double her body over. If he was right, her new lower position should allow the bullets to whiz harmlessly over her and through empty space.

Moving on to the next woman, he saw that he was running out of time. The flying lead was only inches from her body. He could easily have reached her before her heart was pierced, but he would have shattered her rib cage trying to knock her out of harm's way.

In a Herculean act of selflessness and bravery, Flash found the hardest substance he could – a small, twisted panel of metal debris – and holding it in front of the yellow lightning bolt on his chest, he stood stone-like in the bullets' path.

The sparks flew as the projectiles impacted the Flash's impromptu shielding. Many bullets ricocheted off or were stopped within the metal panel itself. But not all.

The lady managed to continue running and screaming to safety as Flash dropped to the floor, sitting upright – a dazed look on his face and blood trickling out of his mouth. He looked at his body and saw dark streaks trailing down his bright scarlet torso from the five neat holes peppered on his chest. It took him a second to realize what had just happened.

When he looked up, he found the sneering face of one of his attackers. Mercifully, the butt of an AK-47 rendered Flash unconscious before he started feeling any pain.

* * *

Shayera Hol was a woman on a mission. The past half hour had tried her patience more than any circumstance in recent memory. Waiting in the holding pen with no communication, hoping that she would have a chance to exact revenge on her captor… she visualized herself in battle – both in the air and on land – against armed suspects and mechanical assailants – inside, outside, night, day… it didn't matter. She was ready for war and itching for destruction. 

She saw Lantern blasted through the wall of the warehouse and, leaping into the air, tried to peer out the hole his body left behind. When she saw him disappear in the trees beyond, she gripped her mace and swung at the wall, ripping the hole larger, allowing her wingspan to fit through. She had just started her backswing when her warrior's senses warned her of danger.

Spinning around, she found two ACCORDS targeting her with a barrage of missile fire. She dove to the floor and flew just inches above the smooth concrete, expertly ducking and dodging equipment, debris and other obstacles. The small warheads exploded around her, destroying equipment and causing further wreckage. She pulled a sharp turn to her left, then launched straight up towards the ceiling and unleashed the might of her mace with a damning throw.

The alien metal weapon utterly destroyed its target and embedded into the bulk of another, causing it to spin wildly for a few seconds. Before it could right itself, Hawkgirl had closed the distance and, grabbing her mace once again, powered it up in her grasp. The crackling energy fed into the carcass of the ACCORD and after a few seconds of smoke and spark, the robot exploded in mid air.

Continuing her mission of punishment, the seething angel swung her mace, destroying enemy devices in the air and breaking the limbs of any human foolish enough to actually fire a gun in her general direction. She continued her personal war, her blind rage building and fueling her assault.

Growing hoarse from her battle cries, she delivered a crushing blow to a computerized adversary and sent it careening towards a large Plexiglas tank that was bubbling over with a clear fluid. The metal wreckage flew into the side of tank, shattering it and spilling the freezing liquid out all over the floor of the warehouse.

Before she could react, two remaining ACCORDS above her had banded a metal netting between them and ensnared the heroine, dragging her down. When the mesh hit her body, the robots dumped all their remaining power into the cabling, electrocuting her as the entire mass plummeted.

Shayera struggled in the snare of the electrocuted net. The current burned her skin and singed the feathers of her wings. The weight of the lifeless robots dragged her down and her body splashed into the remaining puddles of liquid nitrogen flowing across the floor. Her feathers froze instantly and shattered as she struggled to free herself. Her fingers grew numb and her sweat froze her mask to her face. The bubbling fluid coursed around her, draining her energy, stifling her will to fight. Life seeped out of her body and she fought hard for each breath, only to be rewarded with splashes of liquid nitrogen freezing chunks of her mouth, nose and lungs.

She lay there, pinned down, too cold to shiver, in too much pain to struggle until the darkness consumed her and she slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

"It's always the quiet ones…" 

J'onn J'onnz deliberately thinks of that phrase before battle. Sometimes he even whispers it out loud. Flash had made that comment after a particularly brutal fight during which Manhunter had been unreservedly ruthless in his distribution of justice. J'onn had identified with that saying. He appreciated it. It had been one of the first things to make him smile after that particular battle.

And it served as a reminder of how ferocious he could be.

The enormous green hero raised into a monstrous creature and roared his way into battle. He snaked around his opponents and crushed them within the tightening coils of his snakelike body. He sprouted tree branch sized arms and swatted flying robots out of the sky like mosquitoes. His tail sliced through the air and sent two armed gunmen careening into a wall. Their unconscious bodies fell to the floor before his tail ripped a ten-foot gash through the corrugated metal above them. J'onn's body shifted between mighty alien dragon and humanoid creature and back again in the blink of an eye. He phased through the walls and the floors and through solid objects and even people. He seemed to be everywhere at once, yet nowhere in particular.

Two rather unlucky henchmen were standing back to back in a panic, firing their automatic weapons in all directions, trying in vain to do _some_ kind of damage to their phantom attacker. They were pathetically ineffective and before they realized what was occurring, the scaly green coils were constricting their knees together.

Frantically, they swung at the serpent-like body with the blunt ends of their weapons. Before they had even struck a worthy blow, their thighs were lashed together, followed by their backs and finally their shoulder blades.

In a powerful flex, J'onn cracked their skulls together, knocking both men out of the fight. He relaxed his shape and dropped their limp bodies to the floor unceremoniously, then turned to spy his next target.

That's when he felt the flames.

In a move more akin to chess than war, Ultra had trained portions of an assault team with flamethrowers and incendiary weapons. Their drills had them not injuring adversaries directly, but practicing the art of corralling them with directional blasts of fire. And so it happened with J'onn.

The first fire soldier on sight sprayed his flames low, washing the floor with fire and causing the Martian to take to the air. Phasing through the ground was not an option.

In a clever move, J'onn shifted his mass to become virtually invisible, but to little avail. Being well versed in the speeds that he was capable of, the flame soldiers all shot their blasts straight up into the air, forming a wall of fire from the floor to the ceiling.

Instinctively, J'onn ducked towards the only open area. He found a stack of metal drums against one wall of the warehouse, and he launched one at the closest mark. It took the man out cleanly, but unfortunately, his fuel tanks exploded, sending an impressive ball of flame up through the choking air. The man flopped and screamed as he burned, his fire-resistant uniform offering too little protection.

J'onn kept shifting his mass, changing shape, changing form, fading into and out of view. He avoided the flames and attacked and retreated in a grotesque form of guerilla warfare. But just when it looked like he was getting the upper hand… just when it looked like he had reduced his assailants' numbers by one, another would reappear – be it another soldier or an ACCORD.

The perimeter tightened around him and he continued to dodge and evade, attack and hide… until his fatal mistake;

Hiding behind a large rectangular structure, he was taken by surprise by an ACCORD dropping burning fuel from directly overhead. Instinctively, J'onn phased into the structure only to find he could not phase out. He had been driven into the fourth holding pen, which was already warmed up. Ultra had learned from his earlier mistake and had it instantly energized, capturing the Martian within.

Upon realizing his error, J'onn dropped his head in shame. Feeling like he let his team down, he drew in all the energy he could muster and began wailing against the energized walls. The pounding echoed throughout the warehouse as he thrashed again and again… until the floor plating was turned on and he collapsed onto his face, twisting and writhing as the white and silver sparks leapt off his sizzling body.

"Leave it on," Ultra told his lackey. "And turn it up to full power."

* * *

The gods themselves would have trembled if they saw her eyes. 

She was the last to move from her post on the floor, allowing her colleagues the head start of picking their opponents first. It also allowed her a quiet moment to prepare for battle.

"Hera… _Please…_ Give. Me. _Strength,_" she prayed darkly.

Then she attacked.

Two and a half tons of metal grating and panels made up the floor of what used to be holding cell number three. She threw it into the air like it was made of paper. It demolished two ACCORDS and carried their shattered wreckage through the roof of the warehouse and out of sight.

The next targets to earn her wrath were the two that had assaulted Green Lantern in tandem. In one swift motion, she lashed them into bondage with her unbreakable lasso and whipped them into the concrete floor with unimaginable force. Little evidence remained after the impact except the crater left behind and some dust.

She launched into the air and with eagle eyes, spotted three technicians in white coats trying desperately to navigate the chaos and reach shelter. They had found themselves cornered behind a damaged arc welder near a tall metal cylinder. The sparks were flying in all directions, pelting them with superheated beads of molten metal. Their retreat was blocked by fallen debris.

Taking into account the best path for the technicians to get to safety, she spotted two nearby gunmen taking covered positions and training their weapons onto Shayera. She streaked through the air, blasting the pile of wreckage out of the way of the technicians and onto the gunmen, shattering various bones.

Her red boots found no shortage of targets and her tight fists punched holes in metal assailants. Gunmen were tossed about like rag dolls, their weapons shattering in her merciless hands. She plucked two flying machines out of the air and smashed them together before they had unleashed their flamethrowers at J'onn. She used her lasso to sling one of the countless henchmen into a formation of three others, sending them skipping across the floor to wind up in various bloody heaps in the corner.

Punch after punch, kick after kick… she thrust her elbow into an ACCORD and sent it sailing into the brick wall at the far end of the warehouse. As she watched it explode, she saw the bald man standing on the balcony.

Luthor! Friend or foe?

It only took seconds for her to blaze through the air and grab handfuls of his white shirt. She would have been faster had she not destroyed two ACCORDS along the way.

Hoisting Lex into the air, her face contorted with rage and aggression, she demanded that he give her one good reason not to rip him in half.

"Because _he's_ the one responsible for all of this!" Lex shouted in her face.

She followed his left arm and saw the man he was pointing at. Down on the warehouse floor, behind large plate glass windows sat a crippled old man in a wheelchair. With him in the control room were four armed guards and various other henchmen operating controls and panels. Clearly they were monitoring and coordinating the enemy's half of the battle.

She shot an uncertain glance back into Luthor's eyes.

"_THAT_ is the _Ultra Humanite!"_ he declared.

She dropped him back onto the balcony like trash into a dumpster and bolted for the windows. In the second it took for her to close the distance, the old man locked eyes on hers. She saw no fear in them, but she did see him mouth a single command. And at his prompt, one of the technicians looked up and also saw her approach. His hand flew to a switch and in an instant, three-inch thick metal plating slammed down around the control room.

She didn't care.

Bracing for impact, she smashed into the barrier, blasting a massive dent into the shield. Behind it, the plate windows shattered and sent shards of glass raining down on the occupants of the room.

Her fists pounded and slammed at the metal. Dent after dent, the shields twisted under her assault, but didn't give. She continued on, throwing her fists and boots against the surfaces. When a seam showed a sliver of weakness, she thrust her fingers through.

Flexing her mighty back, her unyielding arms ripped the crack wider, the twisting metal screeching unbearably. Squeezing her head and shoulders into the hole, she pried herself into a position to force the opening wider, then slipped into the room.

She landed on her feet directly in front of the old man, who had found enough time to don a black rubber apparatus over his head. She reached for the lapels of his white coats without noticing that the others in the room also had masks over their faces.

Before she was able to pull the old man out of his wheel chair, the room flooded with a thick brown gas, spewing out of jets in the ceiling. In her seething rage, she took in a breath of the gas before it registered in her brain not to. And almost immediately, she felt its affect.

The man in the black mask melted before her eyes. In his place rose the most demonic creature, its leathery wings spreading across the room. She looked with horror into its gruesome face, glowing yellow eyes, fangs dripping froth and green smoke oozing out of its nostrils.

Still gripping the white coat, she slowly lowered to her knees, trying to fight the affects of the gas, but she couldn't resist the feeling of dread brewing in her gut. She had never felt fear like this, an unnatural horror of everything around her. Her bright blue eyes grew wide and her head twisted this way and that, seeing every object and person around her become a form of unstoppable evil closing in on her. And she felt weak, like standing would be impossible, let alone fighting.

Her fists finally released the white fabric and she collapsed onto the cold floor, shivering, whimpering and unable to understand why.

And the man in the wheelchair laughed.

* * *

Lex Luthor sat on the stone balcony, leaning up against the brick wall, hugging his knees to his chest. His one hope of the League finishing off the maniac for him had been dashed into oblivion. He rocked back and forth, biting his lip, contemplating what to do. He had never been scared like this before in his life. 

He was going to die this day. He had counted on the League to free him, maybe even take Ultra out. He had predicted Ultra's death by their hands or his… but after watching the battle rage in the warehouse before his very eyes, he saw how futile it would be to mount any form of one-man offensive. The overwhelming awe of the destruction had sapped him of any feeling of control in his situation.

He had faced death before, many times, and each time, he stood tall, cold and unwavering. And each time, he cheated death and continued on to fight another day. But not today. Today he was trapped like a steer in a slaughterhouse. Death was coming for him and he didn't even have the power to choose when or how.

The battle had been tremendous. More than half of the warehouse was destroyed. Three fourths of Ultra's henchmen were injured, unconscious, or both, while his second generation ACCORD fleet had been cut in half.

But Ultra wasn't upset at all.

Holding cell number four was operational and held three more members of the League. The power to the floor plating had not been interrupted, but was left on at full setting. J'onn's body was steaming and bleeding from the prolonged exposure. Writhing on the floor next to him, Shayera lay too weak to scream, her skin oozing fluid from where it had cracked while frozen. In the corner, screaming as loudly as she could, Wonder Woman lay in the fetal position, shrinking in fear from the very air she breathed.

Green Lantern's body hadn't been found, but wherever he was, clearly he was outside the electromagnetic shield. His ring would be powerless to carry him back through it and there was no way he could make the approach on foot.

Flash's body was tossed into holding cell number one like so much dirty laundry. He lay there, freezing next to the cell's other occupant.

Most of the technicians had fled and would never be seen again. They had been lied to in order to work for the manipulative scientist in the wheelchair. Many had believed that they were working on research equipment that would be used to save lives – and in a way, they were. They were just never told that the master plan was designed to save only one life in particular… the life of a mad genius.

With what few people remained in the warehouse, and what few maintenance robots he had, Ultra was cleaning up his lair and checking the status of all of his machines. Two of the holding cells were utterly destroyed – more would have to be built, he decided. The cryogenic tank was demolished, but fortunately he had enough liquid nitrogen in reserve to keep the bodies in holding cell number one frozen for days, if necessary. Various other machines were severely damaged, but repairable. And the one stroke of luck that made Ultra smile was that the Transference Device - his pride and joy - had hardly been touched.

Shattered machines and twisted metal were cleared out of his way as he personally inspected the status of all the objects 'down on the floor.' Behind him were his top lieutenants, writing down his instructions and delegating tasks.

The small entourage made its way towards holding cell number one. Upon his command, three henchmen in protective gear extracted Superman's frozen body from the pen. Stepping gingerly as to not drop and shatter their hostage, they placed their load into a portable cryogenic chamber. Carefully, the tank was wheeled through the maze of wreckage to the primary machine in Ultra's collection.

By the time they arrived, the Transference Device was powered up and preparing for yet another unholy procedure. Ultra navigated his wheelchair around the entire contraption, checking indications, readouts, power levels… making sure that all was ready for his ultimate plan.

"This withered old body of mine," he spewed to anybody around him that would listen, "will soon be nothing but a broken, empty shell. Sentiment commands me to preserve it, so that I might have a constant reminder from whence I came. But to be honest and forthcoming, I think I'd rather have it burned…"

The machine's humming picked up. Gauges raised their levels, lights switched from red to green. Ultra was lifted out of his wheelchair one last time and placed on one of the slabs. He lay there helpless, turning his head from side to side to make sure that all of his apprentices were performing their duties diligently.

The lid of the cryogenic chamber was opened, and just as the three henchmen were about to extract Superman's frozen body, an urgent call rang out from the control room.

"Sir! We have activity on the perimeter!"

Ultra tried in vain to sit up. He coughed and sputtered and called for assistance.

"Is it Green Lantern?" he finally managed to ask.

"No, sir. It's within the shield zone – and there's no indication of energy weapons. But every point in the minefield is going off – all the machine gun nests in the area are focused on a single target and firing. Scans suggest only one person is out there, but we cannot get any kind of visual... just faint views with infrared. One second he's standing still and impervious to our weapons, the next second he's gone. Either he's a teleporter or he's moving close to Mach speed."

Ultra's face twisted in confusion.

'_Who could possibly…?'_

In astounding realization, his wrinkled head twisted to look at the frozen body being prepared for thawing on the slab next to him. After another second of contemplation, he tilted his head up to the stone balcony thirty feet over his head, where a rejuvenated Lex Luthor was leaning over the rail, smiling and emboldened with what he had also heard.

"Break his arm off!" Ultra commanded trying to will his hand to point at the frozen mass. His lackey stared at him in confusion.

"DO IT!" he shouted before his body was wracked with a coughing fit.

Uncertain as to why, the confused gunman raised this weapon and slammed it down onto the frozen blue limb. It snapped off like an icicle and rocked gently on the slab. When it was held up and turned over for Ultra's inspection, the broken surface showed neither flesh nor bone, but a swirled beige and brown substance.

"I've been deceived!" Ultra declared growing more animated and irate than anybody had seen him be in weeks. "DECIEVED!"

Grinding his yellow teeth, he snapped his head back up at Luthor, who was now grinning evilly down his nose. The old man actually growled and struggled to sit up under his own power, desperate to get back into his chair. He thrashed his arms uselessly, slapping at those that were trying to help him up.

The stress, the rage, the excitement built up, thrusting the madman into an uncontrolled frenzy. It didn't take long for his body to get overwhelmed. Amidst his tantrum, he tensed and locked into a twisted pose. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twisted involuntarily and his back started to spasm.

Death was finally creeping into his rotting body and he struggled and fought with his waning strength to stop the inevitable. His helpers, not knowing what else to do, began to slowly lower his rigid mass back onto the slab.

As they did so, his fading eyes caught sight of the bewildered and scared actress being held at gunpoint in the control room… The fiancé of the man that was the source of his betrayal.

"Her!" the dying man wheezed. He managed to turn his wild grimacing face towards his head engineer. "HER!" he grinded out again, this time pointing at the other slab.

Understanding, the engineer nodded and started barking orders.

Ultra's body was strapped down to its slab and Clayface was shoved onto the floor where it shattered on impact.

"NO!"

Deloris Winters screamed and raged as two large men in black vests pulled her out onto the warehouse floor. She kicked and yelled and swung her bound hands ineffectually at anybody and everybody she was dragged past. She saw the shards of her lover's fragmented body scattered on the floor, slowly thawing in place below the metal slab.

Her legs kicked and thrashed, her arms swung as she tossed her head, screaming in protest, crying out for mercy, begging to be let go. The unfeeling team heard none of it, but simply continued with the monstrous procedure.

With great effort, they managed to strap her ankles to the cold surface, her arms strapped over her stomach. Her hips and chest were pinned down and a metal brace was locked in place around her head, holding it for the procedure. She continued to struggle, to fight. She begged for them to let her go but the coldness of doom washed over her when she saw no sympathy in the eyes that stared back at her.

She felt the jab of a needle in her arm and within seconds, her body drained of energy. She continued to whimper her protests and pleas from behind drooping eyelids. The slab slid up into place, inserting her head within the circular cabinet of components. The soft white light washed over her face and her dilated eyes stared unmoving up at all the sadistic devices hovering over her.

She heard a distant voice echo a countdown and drop orders and commands to activate the machine. Then Deloris Winters was surrounded by darkness. She felt nothing, heard nothing. She was simply numb and disoriented, as if floating through space. All her senses had failed her and she was trapped within a void. She tried to scream, but nothing happened. She tried to move her body, to look at her hands, but it was of no avail.

Then she felt it.

She was being possessed. She felt the presence of another consciousness invade her mind. It felt like her brain was awash in warm blood and a foreign voice echoed in her thoughts. Then her mind swam in thoughts that were not her own.

It seemed to take an eternity, but her eyes slowly opened and through the blur, she saw that she was back at the warehouse. But the view changed angle, as if she was watching a movie and not controlling her own actions. She could hear things, feel things, see things. All of her senses came back, but she still had no control over anything.

She was a prisoner within her own body. And she could do absolutely nothing about it.

* * *


	25. Chapter 25: The Reckoning

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 25: The Reckoning 

"Batman! Superman to Batman!"

"What?!"

"Green Lantern is critically injured. I have him up on the Watchtower. He… he's busted up pretty badly."

"Stabilize him the best you can. Batman out."

* * *

In less than five minutes, he ran seven laps of the perimeter, noting and re-noting everything he could see. The hazy yellow dome glowed over the hilly countryside, stretching two miles in diameter. All indications told him that its energy was blocking all scans and transmissions. He would have to rely on what he saw, heard or _felt_. But then, that's never been a problem for him. 

He hoisted the Batmobile over his head – as good a decoy as any – and threw it into the glow. As expected, it instantly became the target of various automated defense mechanisms.

When the flying car sailed through the yellow haze, all electronic activity stopped immediately, confirming his suspicions of high-powered electromagnetic shielding.

Three concealed machine gun nests tracked and fired at the target through most of its flight.

Two surface-to-air missiles launched from seemingly nowhere and destroyed the famous black vehicle in midair.

Finally, as the smoking pieces of wreckage landed, various landmines and gaseous booby traps were triggered in the area.

All in all, a virtually impenetrable multi-layered defense network, designed against any form of air or ground assault. Each weapon capable of annihilating almost any intruder fool enough to attack. Now he knew what he was up against.

And now that he knew, they didn't stand a chance.

He faded to invisibility and he marched right into the gauntlet. The hairs on his body stood on end when he entered the yellowish shell of energy. He turned off the com link that started hissing in his ear. It didn't take long for bullets to start spraying at him from hidden locations on the landscape. As soon as they did, he blasted his way through the underbrush and ripped the weapons off their perches with his gloved hands, crushing them in his grip.

Moving at amazing speed, the earth was ripped apart under his path as he sped from one entrenched device to another, demolishing everything he saw. Bullets bounced off his body as he closed the distance on a concrete bunker in the hillside and smashed through the steel reinforced walls. He crushed the guns in his hands and moved on to the next one.

A missile turret raised out of a silo, firing a barrage of warheads at him from only thirty meters away. The warheads exploded off his chest like puffs of cloud. With one hand, he ripped an ancient oak tree out of the ground and smashed the automated device like it was so much tin foil.

He traversed the valleys and canyons towards the center of the dome. Jutting out from the hills above him were stone ledges, down from which came more gunfire and missiles. He thrust his hands into the solid rock and ripped the ledge out of the earth, sending the machinery tumbling down the hillside. He tossed the huge slab onto the ground and plowed it through the minefield ahead of him as if he were pushing a child's sled down a snowy hill. The explosions thudded mutely under the weight and he kept trudging along, driving the mass in front of him, his feet leaving deep holes in the earth where he trod.

When the gas traps were released, he raced away from the scene just long enough to take in a colossal breath, then he returned to release it and blow the brown haze harmlessly away as he closed in on its source. Finding the tanks, piping and nozzles, he ripped the whole assembly out of the ground and crushed it into a ball of useless trash and discarded it as such. He did this with each such device he found.

Everywhere he went he left destruction in his wake. Any force that opposed him became rubble and wreckage. When the remaining units of the ACCORD fleet streaked overhead in formation, their fate was no different. And security cameras caught it all.

He leapt through the air, his twin fists impacting the first robot to arrive, smashing a hole through the armored skin. He ripped the unit in two halves, flinging one to the ground and swinging the other at a second flying target on his way back to earth.

The automatons coordinated their attack using updated and sophisticated assault protocols. Their infrared sensors sought out the heat of his invisible body, but couldn't track his speed as he zipped along the hills and trees. He dodged their missiles, he felt nothing as their bullets ricocheted off his body. The fire from their flamethrowers scorched the earth around him, but left him unharmed and more enraged. If a unit calculated a path that took it too close to his grasp, it was rewarded by being crushed in his hands.

In a clearing, a swarm of five units grappled a steel net together and tried to ensnare their target from directly above. He could have easily raced out their way. He could have destroyed any or all of them before the mesh closed in on him. But when he saw that he was being watched on several cameras, he decided to send a message.

Standing like a statue, defiant and fearless, he allowed the quintet of robots to drop down and drape the metal trap over him. Predictably, they energized the cables when they touched down. And yet, he stood still. The electricity visibly arched and sliced along the metal ropes, sparking all around him, sending up steam from the grass that was seared under his feet.

"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!" he roared loud enough for any person within a three mile radius to hear.

With one hand, he gripped the net, swung it over his head in a great circle, dragging the robots along for the ride. After the metal bulks made two complete revolutions around him, he slung them to the ground as hard as he could. The earth shook violently below his feet. The enormous warehouse structure, the tattered top of which was just visible over the trees to his left, shuttered with the shock.

* * *

He had transferred his mind to other creatures before, but never to a human, and never to anything female. 

And it had been a long time since the old man had felt any form of physical arousal – even when the sensual Deloris Winters would saunter by his wheelchair.

But now, inhabiting her body, he felt the youth and the fire burning inside. Her lungs filled with air and offered no refusal when he breathed. Her head turned freely upon her neck. There was no pain coming from her back or arms. And her legs… oh, such perfect, sexy legs.

He sat up in her sleek, healthy body and commanded her hands to take in all that they could. They ran up her sides and gently felt the weight of her firm breasts. They slid down her lean hips and felt the soft skin of her thighs under her skirt. He looked down as he extended her knees, pointing her toes within their high-heeled shoes. And sitting upright on the cold slab, he smiled easily as he looked at all of his servants around him.

It took a second to remember how to stand – especially in women's shoes, but once he did, he looked down with disgust at the brown blobs melting all over the floor. There was a large chunk of Clayface, still partially frozen and in the shape of Superman' torso not far from where he stood. The edges of the chunk were thawed and wiggling as the young actor tried to recover.

"Gather Mr. Hagen," Ultra said with Deloris' voice. "Do not allow his body to reconstitute, but instead, divide it into multiple containers…"

He pointed a slender, red nailed finger at a pile of biohazard barrels near the animal cages, then turned to one of his personal assistants.

"… and call Morgan Edge," he continued. "He has expressed interest in collecting rare things in the past, perhaps we could sell him some _living mud_… and replenish our bank account."

The assistant nodded and hurried off towards a door in the brick wall.

Ultra strutted around on his new legs. He swung the arms, stretched the hands… he twisted his torso slowly and ran his fingers over the delicate porcelain face.

"Oh, this body is _magnificent!"_ he declared out loud, then turning towards the globs of brown being gathered into orange barrels; "Mr. Hagen, you were a _lucky man!"_

"Uh, Ma'am… Sir!" came a call from the control room across the way. "We're still under attack… the perimeter has been breached and our defenses don't seem to be…"

"Ooohhhh, yes… Superman, I presume! I had almost forgotten."

He marched into the control room, the shattered glass crunching under his heels, and looked at the few monitors that were still in tact. Various system components showed gun and missile positions go from green to yellow to red to gone. The minefield monitors that had blue dots where each explosive was hidden showed how the dots disappeared with the disturbing advancement.

"We've released the rest of the ACCORDS, sir," the main operator informed his boss.

"Excellent," Ultra replied easily. "They all have Kryptonite weaponry – that should…"

"Sir! Look!"

Ultra stepped around to see another monitor, which showed five robots dropping with a metal net on nothing in particular. When they hit the ground, the center of the net hung in mid air as it sparked and shocked seemingly nothing at all.

"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!"

Every body in the warehouse shot upright in various degrees of surprise and fear as the voice penetrated the building from outside. Those that were in the control room saw the netting and the ACCORDS whirling around like so many toys on a string before being thrashed into the earth. The whole building shuttered violently, more dust and loose items falling to the concrete floor.

Deloris' face fell in profound confusion… then slid into the first pangs of fear.

'_What _is _that?'_

Clearly it was not Superman, though his quick mind raced to recall any hero known with that much strength and speed – and who was invisible.

"There's no such _being!"_ he shrieked. "Who _is _that?!"

All of those around Humanite stammered their ignorance, shrugging, shaking their heads. And in their faces, he saw the same fright that was slowly sinking into his heart.

Whoever it was, he was _not_ prepared for them. He had _not_ planned on this. And what was worse, he simply DID NOT KNOW what to do.

Never before had he been caught in a dire circumstance without so much as a clue of how to persevere. His incredible genius had offered him the ability to exploit any weakness of any adversary or situation, and his vast amounts of knowledge had always been able to give him a list of weaknesses of any adversary or situation. But not this time.

This time, he was the prey to an unknown, unseen hunter. An unstoppable, impervious force, hell-bent on breaking through whatever was thrown at it. There simply was no weakness to be found.

And so he panicked. The young heart beating within his healthy chest revved up mercilessly. He had no knowledge of this new foe. He had no idea who it could be closing in on him. Ponder as he would, he saw no evidence of vulnerability, nor of it stopping. He stared in growing horror at the monitor and saw weapon after weapon be destroyed. ACCORDS were demolished, exploding in mid air or being crushed by unseen hands. And the path of destruction closed in on his lair.

"Sir, what are your orders?"

No response.

"Sir?!"

"I… uh…"

"You're going to die old man!" Lex yelled from his perch high above. He had watched the destruction of the League. He had witnessed the mutilation of Deloris Winters from his balcony view. He felt the world shake and heard the god-like voice boom from outside. And from what he could see through the shattered windows and holes in the twisted metal shields around the control room, he could tell that Ultra was terrified. "Superman is going to…"

"IT'S NOT SUPERMAN!" the young woman's voice screamed.

Lex's sinister smile fell with confusion.

'_But… who is left… it can't be _Batman_… can it?'_

"It doesn't matter!" he finally called back down to his captor, "Whoever it is… they're coming for _you!"_

Ultra raced out of the control room and towards the ground-level entrance into his chateau. As he did, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the broken glass panel of one of his many machines. It stopped him dead in his tracks. Mouth open in wonder, he tried to take in what he saw.

The beautiful young face of Deloris Winters was still intact, although it wore a rather unflattering expression. But the part that confounded the scientist behind the face was the bulbous expanse of skull around the top and backside of her head. The scalp was stretched thinly over the pulsating brains and the long hair hung loosely and awkwardly from the grotesque protrusion.

Her face contorted with more rage and fear. He punched at the reflection with a dainty fist shattering bone as well as glass. Grimacing in pain, he stared dumbly down at his bleeding hand.

Then it happened.

One entire wall of the warehouse seemed to collapse. Upon spinning around Ultra was able to focus on the destruction only to realize that it didn't collapse, but was ripped off the building and tossed away like magazine. Within seconds, the roof started to cave in from the lack of support.

The few guards and henchmen that hadn't fled were trying to gather their wits and weapons and race towards the gaping void. The girders and joists above them came crashing down with a thunderous roar. The falling debris was arrested by an unseen force at the far end of the warehouse. Like the wall before it, it was ripped off of its remaining connections and flung far away, over the nearby trees and towards the setting sun.

Machineguns started firing at nothing and in all directions. One by one, their rattling ceased, the owners on occasion having the opportunity to shout out in pain before being silenced. The sounds of the battle slowly died as gun after gun was simply stopped and guard after guard was dispatched.

It wasn't long before the ruined warehouse fell silent. Ultra ran back into the control room, locking the armored door, frantically trying to think of a way to evade the phantom hunting him. Grabbing a discarded jacket and draping it over his deformed head, he cowered there with the only three assistants still remaining, all of them wide-eyed and stilled with fear. The indications on the panels flashed before them, the alarms had been silenced, the overhead lights had been killed and the four of them stood as silent as the grave watching through the shattered window and twisted hole that Wonder Woman had left behind.

They heard the ominous crunching of footsteps outside their room. The calm, determined sounds grew closer, yet they couldn't see the owner. The sounds stopped right outside the shattered metal shield and for a short, horrifying moment, all they could hear was the loud breathing of a terror unknown.

That's when the screeching of metal began again for the second time today. The hole left by Diana was ripped further by invisible hands. The shielding was torn apart, stretched open, sheared off its tracks and dropped onto the concrete floor with a tremendous crash.

One of the guards ran for the shielded door, hoping to escape around the impending doom. As he reached for the handle, a fist-shaped dent blasted in from the outside.

The other two guards threw chairs out the gaping hole. They sailed harmlessly through the air and clattered across the floor.

The reigning silence was horrendous. Trying desperately to save face and go down fighting, one guard shouted out, demanding that the hunter show himself. He was rewarded by being hoisted into the air by the front of his jacket. He struggled and kicked at the unseen body, his hands slamming harmlessly down onto the steeled arm holding him high.

"Where's The Ultra Humanite?" a calm, dark voice demanded.

To his credit, the struggling guard didn't look at or mention the disfigured woman in the room next to him, but instead flashed his eyes in the direction of the Transference Device out on the warehouse floor.

"His body's out there," the man managed to say.

"And the League?"

"They're in the holding cells at the far end," he added before being dropped on his ass.

None of the people in the room dared move… until the destruction of all the controls in front of them caused each person to jump out of their skin. Panels were smashed, monitors shattered… the entire series of consoles was demolished before their very eyes.

The destruction of the central systems caused the electromagnetic shielding to fail. Any remaining automated systems shut down, including the power to the holding cells at the far end. Not long after, the cell doors were ripped off their hinges.

There on the floor, her body sizzling from the high-tech torture, lay his beloved Diana, crying uncontrollably in her poison-induced terror. The pain had driven her mad and now the loss of it was even more horrifying. She screamed and thrashed when gentle, invisible hands tried to comfort her. The calm, soothing voice did nothing to end her delusions.

Dejected and brewing his own fear for his love, Bruce stood up and reactivated his com link.

"Batman to Superman… get us out of here."

* * *


	26. Chapter 26: Aftermath

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 26: Aftermath 

'Prisoner' wasn't a good enough word.

Neither was 'hostage'.

Perhaps there hadn't been a word invented that would accurately described her situation; trapped within her own body, feeling and hearing and seeing everything that was happening to her, yet having absolutely no control at all over anything. She could still think some things on her own. She had all the memories she could recall. But whenever she tried to force her own thoughts, she felt another presence steal them from her. Every image in her mind's eye was subjected to another's scrutiny. Nothing was private.

Even the chemical responses of her own body were beyond her control. Her mental fear wasn't accompanied by the familiar rush of adrenaline. When her own hands caressed the luscious curves of her own body, she felt another's unnatural arousal swelling within. When she saw the shattered pieces of her fiancé tossed into various barrels, she wanted to cry, but didn't feel any sense of sorrow or loss in her heart. In fact, she felt the urge to laugh with sick approval, even though her brain was screaming for a chance to weep.

And there was an ever-present voice chiding her… scolding her. It sounded like her own voice in her mind, yet it wasn't her brain commanding it. It was _him._

She felt everything because _he_ was feeling it. Her body was reacting to _his_ thoughts and emotions. Her heart was racing because of _his_ excitement. When she wanted to scream or thrash out, her body stayed calm because _he_ was calm. And when her thoughts struggled the most, that's when she heard her own voice in her own brain tell her to calm down in the most patronizing and condescending manner. It was sick and infuriating and she couldn't even _get_ scared about it… all she could do was _think_ she was scared about it.

When the thick of the battle was raging, she mentally prayed that he would be found out and the Justice League would rip him out of her mind. She tried to build the hope of rescue, only to hear _him_ tell her that there was no hope, and never would be… not for her. He told her that he was keeping her body until he no longer felt it served his needs, then it would be discarded. And when that time came, she would die.

She tried to get angry about it, tried to build up a rage that would break through so she could feel what she was thinking, but she couldn't. She felt nothing but what was fed to her.

And it was driving her insane.

Then there was that moment when it seemed her thoughts made her body her own again. It was when she saw her own reflection in the broken, dirty glass as he was trying to flee. She saw the grotesque protrusions on the top and back of her head. She saw the way the skin stretched the hair thin and the white scalp was visible through the awkward strands. She wanted to scream, to thrash out in fury and fear and he obliged her by shattering the glass with her own fist. And the pain she felt from the punch he threw… she welcomed it. Because she had grown to hate her own body.

Within seconds of the roof of the warehouse being ripped off and tossed away, she had begun to hate everything she saw and heard. She hated the way he made her body walk and sit. She hated the words he used. She began to think as hard as she could that she hoped he died slowly, painfully because she wanted to feel his suffering too. She wanted to hear him cry out in agony. When he grew more and more scared of the invisible menace that was stalking him, she tried to laugh, but couldn't feel the levity within… only his pang of mortal fear. And she grew numb to it. Fear, joy… it didn't matter. Emotion slowly sank into another thing to ignore.

She was an actress, after all. She was in the business of ignoring her true feelings and portraying others on demand. She had become an expert at artificially making herself feel what the script called for, or at least _thinking_ like a person with those feelings. She'd learned to ignore physical pain on a set and donning a smile instead of a grimace, or of talking sexy to a fellow actor with whom she was physically repulsed.

So, when she felt the demon possessing her body was afraid, she became bold. She was able to ignore the butterflies his fears were building in her stomach and think the most hateful, monstrous things. Her hate pestered him, distracted him. He tried to think clearly, she could _hear_ him try. He scrambled for a plan of action to escape, but she became the antagonist within _his_ mind. She told of his impending doom. When he tried to counter that her fate was tied to his, she was able to counter truthfully that she no longer cared. When he tried to trick her with lies of her freedom, she promised him that giving her control of her body back would create one of his worst enemies. He then tried to brush off her threats, belittling her and build up his own importance and invincibility. She coldly reminded him that a person with nothing to lose was the most dangerous thing in the world – and he had taken everything from her, giving her nothing to lose. And she rejoiced in feeling the streak of fear in her own heart when he realized that she was right.

When the guard next to her was thrust up into the air by an indomitable, unseen arm, he was somehow able to maintain her body calm, even though her heart was racing brutally. Whatever it was that was there in the control room with them didn't even acknowledge her or the jacket hiding her freakish appearance. When the threatening voice demanded the location of the Ultra Humanite, she felt his rush of dread and told him that his death was coming soon.

Then the guard was dropped to the floor and the invisible attacker seemed to have left, and he sat quietly, unmoving, wondering if the threat had passed. She continued to wish him unequaled pain and suffering. After a few moments, when the far-off noises of the holding cells being ripped open echoed from the other end of the warehouse, he tried to believe that he may actually be out of danger. But she continued to promise him his own private hell. She told him that he was ill prepared to deal with the Justice League, for _they_ were truly the most powerful beings on Earth.

After a moment of her badgering, he finally countered, citing the fact that they had fled. They hadn't heard any noises in several minutes and when he sent one of his henchmen to investigate, it turned out that the heroes were, in fact, gone. She heard him say, with her own voice inside her mind, that they weren't heroes, but cowards and they deserved to be eradicated. She promised him they would be back and with a vengeance. She heard him laugh in her thoughts, and he began to build his arrogance, regaining the upper hand.

Her mind, infected with her own body's chemistry of adrenaline and endorphins pumping at all the wrong time, began to wander further into madness and despair. Her fiancé was dead, as far as she knew. Her body was not her own – and even if there was some way to recover it, her head had been horribly disfigured. And when she had pinned all her hopes on the Justice League saving her… that had been taken from her, too.

She had no appreciable love for the Justice League – Matt's run-ins with them and with Batman in particular had cemented her skepticism of their true intentions. But since last night, she recognized that they would have been the only way to free herself and her lover from Ultra's and even Luthor's crushing grip. Now it looked as though they had abandoned her, leaving her to suffer a wretched fate with the evil that was festering in her brain.

She would have thought about crying if her body wasn't walking with a relatively light step. The bastard was even humming as she walked out of the control room and onto the warehouse floor. That's when she felt the sharp, hard pain against the base of her neck and the world went black again.

She felt her body fall to the cold floor. She could hear other people's voices, but they sounded like they were a mile away and all bunched together in an incomprehensible jumble of noises. She could feel hands grabbing her limbs and the motion of being moved. All the while, _his_ voice and thoughts were eerily silent.

Then, something familiar; pressure around her ankles and hips. She felt a cold hard surface along her back and legs, although she couldn't tell if she was lying down or upright. There was something cold and hard around her head. The voices were still talking, maybe even shouting, but she was hearing them from _outside_ her mind. They were real voices. And she rejoiced when she felt a sharp pain in her arm… it might have been her arm… but it _was_ pain, and any feeling was better than returning to the numbness.

Her thoughts became even more disoriented after that. Memories and fantasies flooded together in a colorless tapestry in her mind's eye. She saw memories that weren't hers… horrible, awful things and events having to do with nothing she'd ever experienced in her life, yet they felt and seemed so real. The foreign images and sounds seemed to carry on and on, forever, dragging her deeper into hell within her own body.

* * *

Clark forced himself to prepare for the worst. While the battle raged below him, he worked diligently to ready the space station for casualties. Still wearing the black pants of a LuthorCorp guard assault uniform, he swiftly moved about the infirmary, setting equipment up for virtually any kind of medical emergency he could think of. Monitors and devices were powered up, checked and set on stand-by. Specialized medicines for Thanagarian and Martian physiologies were checked for quantity and readiness. Sterilized instruments were inventoried and prepared. He made sure there were six beds available, and as he looked across the room at the clean white sheets and pillows, he prayed that none of them would find occupants. 

John Stewart was the first to be brought aboard. His fight had taken him outside the shielded dome and Superman was able to teleport him up to the Watchtower immediately. He had suffered various broken bones, a concussion and some internal organ damage, but he was strong and fighting. After Clark applied a morphine drip, he was able to set the fractures, clean the wounds and stabilize him without too much complication. His limited first aid knowledge seemed to be enough for now, but with the internal injuries, it would take some highly specialized attention to get John healed properly.

Clark simply did the best he could, trying to keep his mind off what could be happening to the people that were waging this battle for him. He checked the procedures outlined on the displays around him, making sure that he was identifying the injuries properly and taking the preliminary steps needed. He checked and checked again, just to keep his mind busy. When he did find himself starting to worry, he occupied his brain and heart with prayers.

But later, Clark's heart sank when he heard Batman's solemn voice calling for conveyance up to the space station. When the rest of the League was brought aboard, he considered that maybe he hadn't prayed hard enough.

J'onn took a few moments to recover in the corner alone, and although he was still sore and his skin had been bandaged in various places, he still was able to join Batman and Superman in their efforts. It was a delicate procedure getting Flash and Hawkgirl onto a bed. And the three of them soon realized the futility of even approaching Wonder Woman in her state of mind, so they were forced to leave her huddled on the floor of the teleporter room.

They moved and spoke mechanically, announcing the degree of injury and priority of attention that they would need to observe. They didn't speak of what had happened in that warehouse, but quickly and efficiently got to work. Clark bent to the others' expertise. He ran for the sponges and the ointments. He positioned the lights and adjusted the monitor settings. It wasn't long before even Batman's usefulness had piqued and he served as assistant as well.

Shayera looked like hell, but most of her injuries were topical lacerations, burns and contusions. The most serious considerations; her mouth, throat and lungs, were all in bad shape, but she'd pull through soon enough. A plastic barrier was placed around her head and torso to facilitate a pure oxygen environment. J'onn had files on different intravenous solutions for Thanagarians, and thankfully, there were enough in store for her needs.

Flash's body was in the most serious trouble. Having taken five rounds to the chest and abdomen, his internal organs were a mess. The fact that he had been frozen may have actually saved his life. Thawing him was tricky enough, but J'onn had experience with cryogenic status equipment many, many years ago on Mars. He recovered Wally's body temperature and quickly extracted three of the bullets, but the last two had found precarious homes in or near his heart. Clark had muttered something about a miracle and his survival, but neither of his colleagues seemed to hear. After a very tricky procedure, J'onn was able to phase his disinfected hand through the proper places and extract the twisted lead projectiles before they did any further damage. They were able to stabilize the young hero, but his prognosis was still uncertain.

Diana's body was absolutely perfect. The few scratches and scrapes she had suffered were long gone. She had no other visible wounds, but her mind was reeling in chemically induced delusions. She screamed and wailed and thrashed about from unseen horrors and feelings. The three colleagues had foolishly tried to sedate her, only to be punished by merciless tantrums and frenzies. They considered restraining her, knowing full well that they had no straps strong enough to hold her down. J'onn's attempts to contact her mentally proved not only futile, but outright dangerous to her mind as well as his. And the only known antidote to Scarecrow's gas had the regrettable necessity of being administered via injection.

As quickly as his new powers would allow, Batman arranged padding and safety features in the training arena. They had considered trying to carry her there from the infirmary, but it didn't take long before they decided to simply teleport her directly there instead.

"We can't _leave _her like this," Clark as he looked in on his friend through the observation window.

Bruce, still with his cowl pulled back off his head, shot him the most sinister look.

"No shit, Clark!" he snapped. "And if you can find a way of injecting her without getting your bloody skull kicked in, be my guest!"

Clark visibly recoiled at the admonishment. If he wasn't feeling so guilty about the whole situation, he might have actually gotten mad right back at the shorter man. As it was, he didn't respond, but bowed his head and turned away in shame. He didn't have any fear that Batman would do him physical harm, but just _knowing_ what Bruce was capable of… and what _he_ was no longer capable of… made him not push the issue.

It took him a second to do so, but he also considered what his troubled friend was feeling. He had seen the look on Bruce's face when he came back from the battle. He had caught how many times Batman had glanced towards the door when they heard her screaming, as they tended to Flash and Shayera. Clark might seem oblivious to many, many things, and perhaps he didn't know the degree of intimacy to which his two closest friends had graduated, but he did know that Bruce had deep feelings for Diana. And he knew that it was tearing him up to have to put her on the back burner while they patched the others up.

Feeling the fury radiating off the Dark Knight like a bonfire, J'onn tried to keep the situation manageable.

"Perhaps we can devise a new antidote that could be inhaled."

"I've tried," Bruce objected clinically, thankfully calming down, "but the toxin causes the victim to hyperventilate. An aerosol antidote doesn't spend enough time in the lungs to be absorbed."

The three men stood in silence considering their options. The rush of emergency now passing, the stress and trauma of the day was starting to take its toll. Collectively, their minds were slipping into their own respective modes of dealing with the situation.

Clark was still struggling with the guilt of his friends falling into danger while he stayed helplessly in hiding. The fear and frustration battled within him and mixed with exhaustion. With the exception of maybe finding a way to help Wonder Woman, he knew that there was little else that could be done other than make sure his teammates were comfortable. And due to his lack of advanced medical training, he would be of little use for Diana's situation. Thus, his feelings of inadequacy were compounded. His run-ins with Batman weren't helping either.

J'onn, too, felt strains of guilt about the situation; he had spent a good portion of the battle captured because of his own mistake. He knew that there may have been little he could have done to prevent his colleagues' current conditions, but that didn't absolve him of his feelings. He tried an optimistic approach, reminding himself that all his friends were alive and recovering, but in Flash's and Wonder Woman's cases, things were far from over. Sleep was never anything that he needed on a frequent basis, but the way he felt at the moment, a long hibernation would do his mind good.

Bruce seethed. The whole situation was totally unacceptable in his eyes. The fact that a mad man had been able to amass an army and construct a fortress without being exposed or even detected was the basis of his infuriation. He mentally punished himself for not seeing all the signs, or for seeing them but for not putting them together before things got this far out of control. He had relied on a network of information and a chain of communication that seemed to prove increasingly unreliable to him. Plus, he now had every justification in the world to demand that the League stop perpetuating the Superman farce.

As far as he was concerned, now more than ever, Superman was dead.

"What about gas?" J'onn suddenly asked.

"What?" both men asked in unison.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Batman" he explained, "but when you tried an inhalant antidote, you had used full doses, sprayed in the victim's mouth and nose as they breathed."

"That's right. It didn't work. What's your point?"

"Diana is in an enclosed space. If we flood the atmosphere in the room with a low concentration of gaseous antidote, then she'll receive a small dose with every breath. It may not work immediately, but it should reduce the affects of the poison faster than her body could on its own."

Bruce's mind ran through countless considerations. Primarily, he tried to judge the possibility of over exposure. It took a few tense seconds as Clark and J'onn watched him with building hope, and when his stern face lifted into an expression of optimism, theirs did as well.

"Might work," he admitted, his voice more calm than his eyes showed. "Let's run some numbers…"

* * *

"When did he leave?" Dick asked over the com link, rubbing his eyes. 

"I cannot say for certain," J'onn's voice replied. "He is avoiding all forms of contact. He could be anywhere on the planet, really."

"Maybe he's back at Ultra's hideout."

"Possibly, but that is doubtful. There are many emergency crews and investigators on the scene. They arrived not too long ago. I would think that he would avoid that type of situation."

"Yeah, he probably would," Dick agreed. "Do we know what happened to Luthor?"

"I have not heard yet. Our presence has been requested for questioning, but I have told the authorities that we are unable to comply for the time being. I do not want to divulge any information about our medical emergencies at this time."

"Good idea. OK, if I hear from him, I'll let you know," Dick sighed.

"Thank you. Watchtower out."

Dick dropped Bruce's JL com link carelessly on the nightstand. Rolling over in his old bed, he draped an arm over Barbara's warm shoulder. She murmured softly and snuggled her back against his bare chest.

It had taken them both a long time to get to sleep. Waiting in the Batcave for news of the battle had racked their nerves as much as anyone's. After all the members were stabilized in the Watchtower infirmary, Clark had the presence of mind to make a courtesy call to the young couple about the status of things. He provided precious little other than telling them the battle had been won and a few notes about the severity of the injuries.

It was only after they received a progress report on Diana's slow improvement that they were able to even consider leaving the Batcave and facing the other side of life. They forced themselves to eat something, then climbed the colossal staircase to Dick's childhood room.

Some time, between drying their dishes and dropping their clothes on the floor, Batman had disappeared from the Watchtower. J'onn and Clark had tried to contact him through all conventional channels, then a few unconventional channels. Then they called Dick.

"Y'don't think he's downstairs, do ya?" Babs muttered sleepily.

"Maybe."

The two lay silent in the darkness. She could feel that he wasn't falling back to sleep any time soon. With each passing breath she heard escape his nose, she grew more and more awake too. Sometimes it takes a woman to make a man do what he must.

"Well," she said tossing his arm back to him, "If _you_ aren't going to go check…"

"I'll _go_," he conceded, trying to urge her to lay still. "I just hope he's not in one of his moods."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be his typical bright and sunny self."

Dick sat up and fumbled for his pants. He ignored his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind him. His head was still slightly groggy, but his eyes were open and alert.

'_And if he _IS_ down there?'_

'_Then what? Then… nothing.'_

There was nothing he could do or say to his 'old man'. Whatever reason he had for disappearing from the Watchtower, it was sure to be a doozy. And it was certain that nobody else on the planet would understand. And he was sure it wouldn't matter. Following Bruce's mind without a map was difficult at best, but lately it seemed that predicting his motives and actions was damn near impossible. He just needed to confirm his father's whereabouts – that's all. Because he sure as hell couldn't do much more than that for him.

Dick forced himself to move quicker. He started feeling like a kid again; insecure, like he did back in his first days at the Manor, when his mentor was an enigmatic force more than a person. As a youngster, he felt like there was virtually no pleasing him by trying to do more than what was expected – primarily because he couldn't _read_ what was expected. It drove him to try harder, to push himself to please Bruce. Eventually it became one of the toughest wedges driven between the two men.

Now, all grown up and secure in his own right, Dick could look back on his childhood with maturity and understanding. Batman's mystique had all but evaporated in his eyes, and though there had been tough times, there was at least an understanding – until a few weeks ago. Now, the younger man found himself back in that old unsteady frame of mind. He took a little bit of comfort knowing that any kind of uncertainty in the situation wasn't his fault. But regardless of the cause, Batman was proving to be unpredictable again. And showing signs of being driven by an inspiration that verged on recklessness.

The longer it took to get down to the cave, the more that old feeling would have to fester in his heart, Dick knew. So he quickened his pace through the dark mansion. The Grandfather clock slid easily back into place behind him as he descended the stairs to the cave. He hadn't gotten halfway down when he heard various odd sounds and commotion.

He paused and listened, steadying his breath, staying just out of sight of the bulk of the cavern. He heard computer keyboards being pummeled mercilessly, followed quickly by, what sounded like metal clanking on metal. Heavy items were dragged or moved across the concrete floors. He heard the high-pitched screeching of steel being mutilated. It sounded like an army of workers was busy doing _something_ down there.

Carefully, slowly, Dick continued, one step at a time. He finally peeked around the corner and took in what he could. His eyes popped wide open and his jaw fell to the floor.

There, within the cave, amongst virtually every tool and mechanical device Bruce owned was the twisted black frame of the Batmobile. Other scorched and damaged components of the vehicle were lying all around, grouped together by their respective systems. Bruce was in his Batman outfit, minus the cape and cowl. He was dashing about from place to place, organizing equipment, adjusting parts, entering notes or taking information out of the computers. His body was zooming in and out of focus, slicing between visible and invisible as he dashed between workstations in the blink of an eye.

Dick only had a few seconds to take in the spectacle before Bruce's body disappeared from in front of the computer, then reappeared directly in front of him. The older man grabbed two handfuls of Dick's shirt and hoisted him up on to his tiptoes. Dick's face fell into confusion laced with fear at the wild and unrecognizable expression he saw.

Then Bruce's face relaxed immensely and Dick's bewilderment doubled at what his father said.

"Oh, it's you. Hope I didn't wake you."

Then he dashed off to his work again, leaving the young man alone to ponder his next move.

"I'm making some modifications," Bruce called from seemingly three different places at once. "I think I can get this thing up and running in about six hours. I don't really use it for transportation any more – just communications and sensors."

Dick continued to slowly cross the floor to a chair that seemed to be outside Bruce's normal paths. He carefully positioned himself as to not get in his way. The whole situation was bizarre, to say the least. Dick's first impression was not a favorable one, either. Bruce was acting erratically, even emotionally… for him at least. And although he was clearly in the middle of reconstructing the famous car, his methods and procedures seemed to lack logic and focus… but it was hard to tell with all the zipping from place to place.

"What happened to it?" Dick asked carefully.

"I threw it into a trap," Bruce replied almost happily. "I wanted to see what kind of weaponry I was up against. Glad I did, too. I would have guessed about the missiles and the guns, maybe even the minefield, but the gas traps… those might have given me trouble if I didn't know they were there."

Dick thought he caught a hint of a giggle. He had stopped trying to follow Bruce's body with his eyes, it was simply moving too fast to focus on, not to mention the random phasing in and out of visibility. Instead, he took a critical look at the computer monitors and the Batmobile components scattered about.

"Y'know," Bruce began thoughtfully, stopping right in the middle of one of his streaking moves between the wreckage and a cabinet of wrenches, "I'm not too sure what that gas would have done to me… maybe I should run some tests on myself."

Before he finished, he had raced across the cave towards the medical lab and opened a large refrigerated container with various bottles of poisons and chemicals.

"No, I should probably finish this first," he said offhandedly, zipping back towards the tool chest. He stopped and smiled at Dick. "Maybe I can do it later when the paint's drying."

Dick couldn't believe what he was hearing even more than what he was seeing. The old man almost sounded _cheerful._ That would have been disturbing enough, but considering the events of the day and the fact that three of his Justice League comrades were lying in the Watchtower infirmary and Diana was still in the throes of hallucination, it was pushing past alarming and headed for terrifying.

"Bruce," Dick called out as informally as he could, wanting information but trying hard not to sound like he was prying.

"Yep?"

"I'm wondering if you can't slow down for a second… I want to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

Bruce stopped mid-streak and stood stone like, glaring at his son. His body phased in and out of visibility twice before he spoke.

"I don't want to talk about it," came the familiar, dark baritone before he went back to his erratic activities.

"Oh, that's OK," Dick replied casually, cleverly. "I just wanted to hear more about the traps and all, but if you're busy…"

With a gust of wind, Bruce was standing in front of Dick, shaking both fists.

"It was _awesome!"_ he exclaimed through clenched teeth. It reminded Dick of Wally. "I don't even _feel_ the bullets any more. The missiles? Pht… Useless!"

He paced about, his arms animated, his face dropping from grin to grimace and back again as he recounted his attack on The Ultra Humanite's lair.

Dick listened to the words and watched with a keen analytical eye. The body language said untold volumes more than what was spoken. He'd seen the same kind of behavior before – from suspects in interrogation rooms at the Blüdhaven Police station.

He allowed Bruce to continue on until he got to the part about ripping down the warehouse by hand.

"Is that when you found the rest of the League?"

Bruce fell silent, his gaze drifting while his face grew stoic. After a moment, he frowned, blinked several times and drew in a deep breath. His mannerisms had stilled, his poise returned to a more Bruce-like state. He looked at Dick out of the corner of his eye for a fleeting second, then let out the breath with a sigh. He continued his pause, trying to think of the right words to use.

"I… I think I screwed up, Dick," he confessed. He took a few needed seconds and shook his head. "No, I _did_ screw up. I was supposed to keep Clark safe and I… I thought I saw a threat…"

Dick listened with renewed interest as he continued on in more serious tones.

"Turned out to be nothing, but… when the blast went off, I wasn't there."

Dick waited for more. When it didn't come, he prodded gently.

"Then what happened?"

"I thought that I could end it all, but… I knew about the warehouse Luthor had talked about last night – the one where he had been spying on Ultra. I went _there_… it was deserted. Everything was gone. By the time I got back to Metropolis… everybody else was gone too."

Dick nodded in understanding. He was inwardly thankful that Bruce had calmed down and started to open up a little. He'd never seen his father like this before and it was a unsettling – especially considering the past few days' events. He was about to ask for more information, maybe even help him release further stress when the tables were suddenly turned.

"Why did you do it?" Bruce asked seriously.

"Do what?" Dick asked just as seriously.

"Why did you tell Flash to teleport everybody into a trap?"

Dick didn't respond, but locked his eyes right on to Bruce's. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"You knew it was a trap, didn't you?" Bruce asked with growing venom in his voice. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that it would be the only way that we'd get inside the perimeter with an element of surprise."

"_An element of surprise?"_

"Yes," Dick declared with certainty. "Ultra had the place surrounded – protected. _You_ know that… you saw what he had…"

"And I also took it out without a scratch," Batman retorted. "You should have waited. You should have given me the coordinates and kept everybody else _safe!_ Damn it, Dick! They're up there now, half dead because _you_ went off half cocked!"

"We didn't have _time_ to wait," Dick declared, trying hard not to raise his voice too much. "Had we not acted when we did, Ultra would have known that the virus didn't work. He could have secured his position – or moved to a different place entirely."

Bruce didn't respond right away. It looked as if he were contemplating the truth of that assessment.

"_I_ made the call. Flash, Lantern and Wonder Woman all agreed that it was the _right_ call."

"The _right_ call?! They'd all be _dead_ right now if I hadn't…"

Bruce stopped abruptly and turned away.

"Even you…" he whispered.

"Even me, what?" Dick demanded.

The larger man didn't turn around. Dick saw him shake his head a little, then heave another sigh. When he didn't answer, he tried again.

"What the _hell_ is wrong, Bruce?"

"EVERYTHING!" the man roared, making the whole cave shake. He spun around with a look of exasperation.

"I've put my trust in a bunch of half-baked heroes and aliens up there," he ranted, waiving his arm towards space. "They're all power and no planning! They punch first and think later. J'onn's the only one of them with any sort of patience, but he's oblivious to human nature. Shayera's _supposed_ to be some kind of detective, but she couldn't find a clue unless her mace told her to. With the exception of Lantern and maybe Diana, none of them have any tactical skills whatsoever, and those two would make fair sergeants at best. Flash, that _idiot_… I'm surprised Central City hasn't run him out on a rail, he's such a pain in the ass. At least we've gotten rid of Clark – he was probably the worst one of all…"

Dick couldn't believe what he was hearing. He sat in mild shock, listening to the rant continue.

"And here I thought that _you,_ the one person I could count on… would be able to make a few smart decisions, but you go and make the _stupidest_ rookie mistake I've ever seen! I can't count on _any _of you people!"

"Bruce…" Dick tried to interrupt calmly. It had taken an incredible effort to not explode on his accuser and now he was recognizing that there was an underlying message to discover.

"It's too _important_, Dick. Things are _different_ now. The _world_ has a chance to finally get turned around. I can scratch the vermin off the streets. I can set the politicians straight. I can end the corruption and the misery. But I _can't do it_ if I have to keep cleaning up all these other messes that keep getting in the way."

There was sincerity in his eyes. There was a drive in his voice. And there was desperation in everything he was saying.

"Dick, the League is becoming more of a problem than a solution. I can't _rely_ on them any more. I know we've had our problems in the past, but… You've never let me down… you, Barbara… I _trained_ you. I was hoping I could rely on _you_ to keep up, to watch the things that I can't."

Bruce turned away again.

"But even _you _are letting… You're not doing what I… "

The great man stammered for an ending to his thoughts, but shook his head in frustration. He huffed again and took one last look at his son. Dick heard him mutter something about 'alone', then, with a mighty rush of wind, he was gone.

* * *

**AN: I haven't dropped any Author's Notes in a few chapters. I'm sure many of you find that refreshing! But I thought I'd add some here this time around.**

**Sometimes he's on and sometimes he's off - Batman that is. He's still got the ever-present Dark Knight in him, but there's something else going on inside, isn't there?**

**As always; thanks to all those that read. I write this for you. I also would like to drop a special thanks to all those that post reviews and personal messages. If you have a comment or question that you don't want to make public, please, by all means, drop me a personal message - or send me a direct email. My address is posted in my profile.**

**As I'm sure you all know by now, I try to reply directly to reviews, but I reply to anon reviews in subsequent chapters. Like this:**

**To BKK:  
First off; you rock. I wanted to post chapters 23, 24, 25 all on the same day... but that wouldn't be any fun. I tried to use supply & demand, figuring the number of reviews & personal messages were a good measure of demand. So, I didn't do a full week between those chapters - I had spent much of that month+ between chapters trying to get these last few right. I hope I did a good job! Thanks for reviewing, my friend!**

**To Anon.:  
Why would Batman need the Batmobile? Indeed! First off (and I had a line in this chapter as well), it can hold a lot of his stuff. Communications, sensors, all that... kinda like a portable Batcave in many ways.  
Humanite consider the down sides of being put into a female body... well, it was kind of a last minute decision - he was about to drop dead after all, I don't think he really cared at the time!  
You have a good point about Humanite and an emergency escape route. I didn't really spell it out in Chapter 25, but there was a point (right before Batman ripped the wall off the warehouse) when Ultra was trying to race into his chateau. I had envisioned his escape would be in the house - but he stopped when he saw his reflection, then when Batman did his thing & Ultra had to make a hasty retreat back into the damaged, but sheilded control room.  
Y'know, you're right... maybe "A calm, dark voice" wasn't a good description. Well, "dark" yes. But "calm"? I had considered that his calmness amidst all the action and destruction would MAKE him terrifying. Good observations/questions/suggestions! Thanks!**


	27. Chapter 27: Divisions

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 27: Divisions

It took close to ten hours for Diana to stop crying and another two before she called out for somebody to let her out of her improvised padded cell. J'onn insisted that she report immediately to the infirmary for tests. She resisted, feeling the weakness and fear draining out of her system and being replaced ten times over with the strength of a warrior's pride.

However, J'onn persisted calmly and she eventually had to acquiesce to his will. Clark, standing by somewhat quietly, and about as tired as she was, also helped her make up her mind and reign in her temper.

When they entered the infirmary and she took in the condition of her three colleagues, she was instantly torn between sorrow and a renewed level of ferocity. But again, she controlled her anger and focused on her friends instead.

Shayera was coherent enough to wave and smile weakly, but John and Wally were both lying unconscious in their respective beds. All three were hooked up to various monitoring devices that were flashing and beeping in their own turn.

"They will recover," J'onn confirmed for her when he felt her internal fire.

She didn't respond, but walked softly over to her sister's bed. Shayera put a hand against the clear plastic barrier and Diana did as well. The two smiled gently at each other.

"I'm sure it looks worse that it feels," Hawkgirl assured her in a raspy voice.

"Well, it looks like you took on Hades and half of his minions by your self."

"Oh, then it looks exactly like it feels," she joked before coughing painfully.

"Don't speak," Diana ordered kindly. "Get some sleep. You'll be up and fighting soon."

The Thanagarian nodded and smiled faintly before shutting her eyes again for some well-needed rest.

Diana walked around towards Green Lantern's bed. She delicately touched the bandages around his leg as she made her way towards his pillow. Her other hand came to rest softly on his head and she stroked his forehead with her thumb. Silently, inwardly, she recalled the incredible effort it took for him to overcome the horrific pain in their holding cell and blast them free, giving them all at least a fighting chance.

"Thank you, John," she whispered, then taking one last look, made her way around to Flash.

She approached his bed carefully, as if each step she took could possibly cause him harm. Unlike with Shayera and John, she kept her hands to her self, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. She had seen what he had done to wind up like this. At the time, she had even allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction when she snapped the right arm of the man that had smashed the butt of his gun against Wally's head. In the heat of battle, she hadn't the time to consider his fate.

But now she could.

His heart monitor beeped indifferently. Her face twisted in sorrow as she looked at all the wires and tubes attached to his young body. So many times before his cockiness had made everybody forget that, under all that glitz and goofiness, he was simply a young man trying his best to make a difference in his world. So many times in the past, he had risked his life, and came out without a scratch. But not this time. This time his selflessness almost cost him his life. And lying there, with the dark red bloodstains showing in soft spots through the gauze on his chest, he never looked more heroic, nor more vulnerable to her.

Her magnificent blue eyes welled up red and she sniffled in an errant tear. Blinking quickly, she had to resort to wiping away the next few. Clark's warm hand on her shoulder sent her over the edge. She turned quickly into his massive chest and buried her face, sobbing gently.

"He'll be alright," Clark said gently.

Holding his friend securely in his arms, he stroked her disheveled hair smooth and rested his cheek against her head.

She held him back, thankful for a shoulder to cry on in a rare moment of sorrow. The physical exhaustion, the emotional trauma that she endured from the toxins, and now the bitter sadness of her comrades recovering from the brink of death were just a little too much. Warriors do cry. And so would she weep for her friends – if only for a moment. It wouldn't take long for her strength to restore her dignity, but for now, she wanted to let out some of what she had inside.

After a few short, tender seconds, she pulled away and wiped her eyes clear. She looked up at Clark's handsome, troubled face and brought a gentle hand up to cradle his cheek. She could see the pain he felt as well. He was carrying not only the burden of dealing with suffering friends, but also the guilt associated with his relative helplessness. She looked deep into his blue eyes and tried with her own expression to show him that she valued his friendship, that she was thankful for his tender comfort and that she believed that he had nothing to feel guilty for. Then, through her blurry vision, she caught sight of a dark figure in the doorway behind J'onn out of the corner of her eye.

Clark had seen what she had and immediately dropped his arms and stepped back away from her.

"Bruce," she called out, happy to see him. "You're here."

She started walking in his direction, but he stood his ground, unfeeling. When she drew near and held out her hands for his, he didn't move. That's when she realized that he had literally caught her in the arms of another man, and as platonic of a scene as it was, it was still somewhat tender and intimate – and he could still be a closed off, cold son of a bitch. She caught herself for a split second, her face dawning on the possible error in perception. She had just begun stammering an explanation and took a quick glance at Clark, but when she turned back, he was gone.

* * *

"Superman! Superman!" the man shouted quickly, raising his hand. "Where is the _Ultra Humanite_ and what has happened to this _Clay-Face_ that you spoke of?"

Standing at the news podium, several microphones aimed at his strong face, Clark cleared his throat before continuing. A lot had happened in the two days since the battle.

"As I said earlier, The Ultra Humanite's whereabouts are not known at this time. His _body_ was found in his hideout, but his _brain_ had already been extracted from it. We have reason to believe that he is still alive. Clayface is also missing. Deloris Winters claims that she saw his body placed in several containers and she had mentioned a name that she said she overheard – the name of a person that may have possession of those containers. From what I understand, the authorities are investigating. Next question."

"Superman," the young brunette in the red jacket and black pleated skirt stood up, "Lois Lane, Daily Planet, Metropolis. I understand that Deloris Winters is being held for psychiatric evaluation, would you care to comment on that?"

"Ms. Winters has suffered a great deal in the past few weeks. She was forced into participating in medical experiments by The Ultra Humanite and his people. This left Ms. Winters physically scarred. She has undergone reconstructive surgery, and from what I understand, her appearance should soon be restored to normal. However the traumatic experience has left her a little shaken up. She's recovering at an undisclosed location. Last question… you, in the grey sweater."

"Linda Park, KFMB Channel 4, Keystone City. There have been reports from the survivors and technicians formerly in Humanite's employ that claim to have witnessed several of the members of the Justice League getting wounded or killed. There were also reports of an unknown _invisible man_ that destroyed Humanite's weapons as well as his warehouse. What is the nature of the injuries your colleagues suffered, were there any fatalities and could you comment on this invisible person?"

"Yes, Linda, I'd like very much to address that. I want to put these rumors to rest once and for all. None of the members of the Justice League have been killed. In fact _nobody_ died that day – on either side of the battle. There were injuries on both sides, but all I can say is that some of my colleagues suffered minor injuries and have recovered from those injuries. As far as this invisible man is concerned… _I_ haven't seen him."

* * *

"You haven't seen him… you dork!" Shayera threw a cushion at the man in blue as he walked into the lounge. Her beautiful face was free of scars, although one arm was still heavily wrapped in gauze and many of her feathers were still missing.

"It was the best I could come up with at the time!" Clark offered.

"Yeah, well… I think you've been hanging around Luthor too long," she accused light-heartedly. "You seem to have mastered the art of answering without answering. You also seem to be an expert at withholding just the right amount of truth."

"Oh, thanks," he replied sarcastically, taking a seat next to her on the couch. "At least I didn't _lie._"

"_Didn't lie?_ You said nobody was seriously hurt! Wally's still in the infirmary and… wait… you even said that to _Linda Park!_ Oh, the irony! How is that not lying?"

"No, no, no. Listen to it again," he reached for the remote and played back his last answer. "See, I said that there were minor injuries. There were. I also said that people have recovered from _those injuries._ They have. I didn't say that there _weren't_ serious injuries."

"Oh, you're just _too clever, Clarkie!"_ she laughed, shaking his arm.

The two sat chuckling next to each other, their feet up on the table. Clark flicked through the channels, looking in vain for something interesting.

"I really don't like doing those… _press_… things," he admitted as the shows continued to flip.

"You're a _reporter._ You _are_ the press!"

"Ok, you know what I mean!" he scolded. "It just bugs me that I'm not really answering their questions… that I've learned how to lie without lying."

She turned and looked up at his sincere profile. Her green eyes took in all his features.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah," he replied, looking at her like the answer should have been obvious.

She harrumphed, shaking her head and reached for a magazine.

"You also never mentioned the albino gorilla missing from Ultra's cages…" she muttered.

"Are you through?" he asked with mock annoyance.

The two sat in silence, looking for something to pass their time, when an unsteady clumping drew up the hall and into the lounge. The two heroes looked up to see Green Lantern hobble in on a walking cast, his arm still in a sling.

"Can hear you coming from a miiiiile away, Stewart," Shayera teased nodding to his leg. She turned to Clark, "I tried to tell J'onn to give him a pink one, but…"

"Yeah, very funny," John droned before changing the subject. "I just thought you guys might want to know; Wally's awake."

The two leapt off the couch and blasted past their limping colleague, practically knocking him to the floor. They made their way into the infirmary to find Diana already sitting in a chair by Flash's bedside, holding his hand. J'onn was updating his charts.

"Hey, slow poke!" Clark smiled as he entered the room. He politely brushed behind Diana and stood by the patient's pillow. "How ya feelin'?"

Flash smiled weakly, with droopy eyes.

"Like a grenade went off in my chest," he answered half seriously. "And hungry."

Shayera made her way to his other side and took his other hand in hers. She squeezed it and looked at him for a long while, not speaking, but just smiling at him. It didn't take long for him to call her out.

"What? Wadaya lookin' at?" he asked, shying away. "Never seen a handsome man in a white robe before?"

"Nope," she grinned. "And I still haven't."

"Hey!"

Between laughs she gently bent down and gave him a tender hug. He tried to hug back, but his chest wasn't up for it. So, he just sat up a little and enjoyed the attention.

"I won't be down long," Flash predicted. "I've always been a fast healer."

"That's true," J'onn offered. "I have devised a medication that will help his accelerated physiology repair his damaged tissue very quickly. He should out of bed within a day."

"And taking on the bad guys the day after that," Flash promised with a nod and a gleam in his eye.

"Yeah, well don't push it," Lantern recommended as he finally entered the room. "Take all the time you need."

"Two days," Wally enunciated, holding up two fingers. "You can bet on that. By the way… what did I miss?"

"Oh, nothing," John replied. "We recorded your shows for you last night…"

"No," Flash interrupted a little more seriously. "With Ultra… what happened after I… y'know…"

"Oh… _that…_"

Each member took their turn recalling what they could. Clark tried to fill in the rest from what he knew, but there were still a lot of unknowns about the battle and what had happened after. Batman had never logged in a report of his activities, although there was a good idea of what he had done based off the aftermath and witness accounts. Also, Luthor had been mysteriously absent from the business reports and gossip limelight, not to mention unreachable by the authorities. J'onn and Clark had discussed the pro's and con's of trying to setup another meeting with him to 'clean things up', but decided that, with Lex's mastery at word play and manipulation, the League would wind up with more questions than answers.

"So, Bats swooped in and saved the day, huh?" Flash said after they were all done. "Figures. We probably should have just sent him in first… would have saved a lot of trouble."

"You're right."

All heads turned towards the door to see the Dark Knight looming as seriously as ever. There was a tense second when nobody knew what to say – was this the nice bat or the mean bat? Finally, Flash broke the silence.

"Hey, there! It's the man of the hour!" he cheerfully called out. He had the luxury of not knowing about Batman's recent absences and conflicts with others in the League. So in typical Wally fashion, he cheerfully taunted his friend. "Come on in and gimme a big ole bat-hug!"

"It _would_ have been better if I had just gone in alone," Batman reiterated plainly, not acknowledging Flash's jest.

One by one, the other members of the League caught on to the gravity of his declaration, the tone of his voice and the severity of his stance. Wally noticed their reactions and his weak smile melted into a look of concern. Slowly, they stood or turned to face the Dark Knight directly… except Diana.

"What are you trying to say?" Lantern asked carefully.

"We need to address the organizational structure of The League," he replied plainly, elusively.

Nobody had a response to that, but simply shared serious glances with one another.

Diana, however, looked at no one. Still in her chair, her head bent down slightly, she suddenly found the thread count of Flash's sheets very interesting. She didn't pay any heed to the burn of J'onn's stare at her back. She didn't acknowledge the building tension. She simply accepted the situation as being the inevitable culmination that it was destined to be.

"Batman," she said as unimportantly as she could under the circumstances, her eyes looking a her hands, "You and I need to talk."

"Not now, Princess…"

"Yes. Now."

She turned her head to glare directly at him and he saw her resolve. It took a few seconds for him to respond.

"Alright," he conceded arrogantly before turning and strutting towards the conference room.

"Wait," Shayera protested, gently catching Diana's arm as she tried to leave. "If this is a League issue…"

"Shayera," J'onn interrupted, "let her go, I will explain in a moment."

Diana didn't look at her colleague, but kept her gaze on the floor as she waited for her to drop her hand. Shayera's confused eyes flashed from Diana to J'onn and back before she did, then she watched the Amazon walk out like a reluctant executioner.

* * *

Diana found Batman in Superman's traditional seat when she arrived at the conference room. He was sitting at natural attention, his hands joined together on the table in front of him. His cold eye lenses didn't sway her at all and she didn't look at him as she made her way around to her own chair.

She seated herself comfortably, carefully folded her hands on the table in front of her as well, and finally looked at him.

"We have a situation," she stated plainly, although everything else about her was screaming that the word _situation_ was a little too mundane.

The Bat didn't flinch, but something about his presence seemed to be lacking the arrogance he had just a few moments ago. He wasn't glaring, but he was watching her with emotionless, untouchable eyes as she spoke.

"And before I go any further," she continued on, looking down at the table top, her eyebrows knit with concern, "let me say that I'm speaking as a member of the League… a concerned colleague that has nothing but the best interests in mind for both the League as a whole as well as any individual member."

She had rehearsed that preamble countless times, deliberately choosing modern, business-like verbiage that was as neutral and unassuming as possible. It belayed neither threat nor affection, but did suggest a serious topic, though it offered no indication as to what that topic truly was. In short, she wanted to appeal to the CEO in him.

"Let me also say that up until this moment, only myself, J'onn… and Dick have been aware of what you and I are about to discuss. J'onn is now discussing it with the other members as we speak."

That got a response.

"Dick?"

"Yes."

He turned his head away in thought. She could hear him take a deep breath through the nose.

"What does he have to do with the League?" he asked cautiously.

"He was acting as a consultant. I brought him in."

His head turned quickly back to her. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but remained quiet.

"Batman," she said very deliberately for effect, "I want you to tell me about the missions."

Pause.

She locked her cool blue eyes on his dead white lenses. She noticed his fingers flex. Whatever he was feeling, it was almost unreadable in his expression. The only thing evident was that he wasn't very comfortable at the moment.

"What missions?" he asked looking straight ahead.

She had expected this; the dreaded cat and mouse game. So many times in the past he had escaped any kind of interrogation with his mastery of simple word play. But she could play that game to. And although he could normally outfox most people with his cleverness, this time, he was up against a thoroughly prepared and perfectly capable opponent. So in contrast, she became as direct as she could.

"The covert missions you've been taking in the League's name. The missions that should have gone to others, yet you took them yourself, based on the high degree of danger. The missions you take as an independent agent outside of Gotham. The missions you take in areas normally in the jurisdiction of other fully-capable heroes outside the League."

She couldn't tell for sure, but she would swear that his eyes were closed behind the mask. She saw his lips tighten and his head sag while his shoulders rose with yet another large sigh.

"Take your pick," she concluded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responded with an uncharacteristically weak tone.

She had considered that possible answer, although she had hoped that he wouldn't resort to it. It was a sign of disrespect to her, personally. But she was prepared to take no offense as she had decided long ago that if he uttered it, it would most likely be used in a neutral, business-like manner… and not a personal attack on her intelligence. Still, it was disappointing.

"Don't make me bring up the files," she warned him, motioning towards the general direction of the computers.

His head turned sharply towards her with that ultimatum.

"_What… files?"_ he demanded coldly, the strength in his voice returning.

Now it was her turn to feel uneasy.

"The ones you had on the computers in the Batcave," she answered tensely.

She paused and prepared for the consequences of her next statement.

"The ones," she confessed, "that I found while you were out on patrol a week ago."

He swiveled in his chair away from her. One hand on his knee, the other on the table, it looked like he was going to get up and leave. To her relief, as well as partially to her regret, he didn't. He took a few more seconds and she gave them. Finally, he turned back.

"You stole my files," he accused with Bruce Wayne's voice.

"Bruce, I…"

"You broke into my computer," he continued with building anger, "and stole my _personal mission files."_

"Yes," she admitted, not looking at him, feeling her face tighten, "I did. It was the night after Clark told Lois everything. You went out on patrol. I was in the cave and the computer was on. I didn't know what they were when I brought them up. I didn't think they'd be _personal_ or _secret_… they weren't encrypted."

She looked up to see him turn away from her again.

"I just took a glance at a few things," she continued on, her voice growing softer than her earlier business tone. "When I saw that they were mission files… about _League missions_… I became curious and read a few more."

He leaned way back in the chair and laced his fingers atop his head while he looked up at the ceiling. Again, another deep, tense breath. His lips pursed as he swallowed.

"That's when I saw," she said with growing strength and accusation, "that you had been deliberately reassigning missions to yourself. I called J'onn in… I wanted a second opinion… to make sure that it wasn't what I thought it was. But he confirmed it as well and…"

"I trusted you."

She stopped herself cold.

"I know."

She had no other response to that.

"You had _no... right_."

That was a sentence that she predicted he would say, and in being such, she also had planned on making it a pivotal point in the conversation.

"That's true," she shot back. "I had no right to dig into your personal computer files. But I did. I'll apologize for it later. Right _now_, you and I are going to have a nice, long talk about this, so I can understand what it all means before we bring the rest of the…"

"You're not going to tell rest of the League _anything._ In fact this conversation is over."

He shot up out of his chair, but didn't leave.

She stood up, too, and added a pointing finger as well.

"You manipulated League resources and assignments for your own whims. That's _League business_. The rest of the…"

"_My own whims?!"_ he shouted incredulously. "Diana! I've been saving their _lives!"_

'_Good,'_ she thought, though she didn't drop her antagonistic posture. '_Now we're making some progress'_

"By God!" he exclaimed, his arms gaining animation as he started pacing. "Look at what just happened. The _five_ of you damn near got killed the other day! That could have all been avoided if _I_ had gone in there instead."

She slowly relaxed her stance and allowed him to continue.

"You want to know why I did what I did? I'll _tell_ you… it's because now it can be done _the right way!_ I've made it my _life's mission_ to end the crimes in my city by keeping Batman an unseen terror to those that break the law. Half the punks I catch weren't convinced that Batman even _existed_ when I scared the shit out of 'em in some alley. For all they knew, he was some legend… some… _phantom._ Now I _am_ invisible. I can just… _show up_… out of thin air. It's got these kids scared _straight!_ Before, I could dodge their punches, block their crowbars and bats. I could pull some move to make their bullets miss. Now can just stand there and stare them in the eye while the bullets _bounce off._ You should _see _what it does to them!"

Watching him carefully, Diana slowly sank back into her chair, absorbing the information with a critical ear. The information was sound, but the body language and the excitement and tone of voice were something very un-Bruce. He was exuberant, animated. The Dark Knight in him was still present, eternally, but now, he was very much a normal man in many ways as well.

"And it's _working_, too. The number of repeat offenders has been going down… _a lot_. The crime rates are _dropping_… and not just in Gotham, but _everywhere_ I've been."

Her eyes finally wandered off his face as she considered it from his point of view.

"And as far as these League missions, well…" he changed gears and dropped his voice into a more serious and careful range.

He paused for a second, considering how to explain it. After a short moment, he grabbed his chair again, pulled it over and sat down directly in front of her. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Still thinking of the best approach, he pulled his mask off and locked his blue eyes on hers.

"Let me ask you something," he started softly. "How did you feel when you first saw Shayera, John and Wally in the infirmary the other day?"

The question caught her a little off guard. The pain in her heart from that particular moment was still a fresh memory, and recalling it wasn't very pleasant. She didn't answer.

And he didn't need her to. He could tell by her expression and body language what she had felt looking in on her tattered friends.

"I thought so," he continued, still keeping his voice softer than Batman would. "And whatever you felt, it was nothing… _nothing_… compared to what I felt when I found you in that holding cell."

Her eyes quickly found his again. There was sincerity and kindness there.

"I know you," he said, taking her hand. "I know what a powerful and genuinely _good soul_ you have. I know you're a _fighter._ I would never want to change that. But I am _not_ about to send you or _anyone_ else out on a mission that could potentially turn _fatal_ if there's another way for it to be handled without incident."

"Bruce," she protested, "you can't take on the whole world…"

"_Yes, I can,"_ he objected. "I _have_ been… and I've been _winning._"

Looking deeper into his eyes, reading his face, she could see that he believed in what he was saying. She felt his grip tighten and saw the energy in his expression. He was growing excited just _thinking_ about it. He truly believed that he could save the world – even if he did so one person at a time.

"And I can do it even _better_ if I could count on the rest of you to back me up."

"Backup?" she asked, suddenly brought back to reality. Up to that point, she had slowly been building an understanding of his take on the situation. She had seen the earnestness in his face, heard his belief in his words and in his voice. She found no holes in his logic; use the proper tool for the job, the right weapon for the fight. He'd always had the ability to lead, always had the planning and the resources. Now that Superman was not able to partake in the action, maybe Batman could step out of the shadows and fill that void somehow.

But his last statement showed the flaws in that rosy-tinted world. It wasn't logic, it was arrogance. He may be more powerful than ever before – maybe more powerful than anybody else in the League right now… but he was still just one man. And this last statement showed that he didn't understand that. It also showed her that he didn't want to lead, he wanted to reign.

"You want the rest of us to serve as your backup?" she asked again for clarification, although she said it more like a statement than a question. By the sudden change in his expression, she could tell that he regretted saying what he had – or at least his choice of words.

"No… no, that's not what I meant," he answered, putting a hand to his forehead as he turned away. "I guess _backup_ is a bad word… uh… more like… geez, how do I say this?"

He turned in his chair and Diana's skepticism doubled.

'_Is he… _confused?'she wondered. _'When is Bruce _ever_ at a loss for words? When does he ever say 'geez'?!''_

"Batman," she asked softly. When he didn't answer, she tried again. "Bruce!"

He looked at her like she had just interrupted his nap.

"Bruce, I'm concerned," she admitted with authority. "What you're saying is… disturbing to me. You don't seem like yourself…"

There was a flash of anger in his eyes, then it grew into deep introspection. He sat up straighter, his eyes moving to the far wall, his jaw setting resolutely.

"You're right," he replied thoughtfully, his voice much more familiar. "I haven't been myself lately…"

Diana felt a slight flush of relief, seeing him regain his mantle and steady his keel. Then it dropped again.

"I'm getting _better._"

* * *

**AN:  
I'm sorry it's been a while since the last update. I hope everybody had a good Holiday Season - I know I did!**

**This story is now taking somewhat of a turn down the final stretch. Ultra has been defeated (although his true location/condition is not _known_ - I think those that are familiar with the cartoons can come up with an educated guess!) The same goes with Clayface. And for those that might not know it, Deloris Winters was _not_ an original character. She's not in the cartoon, but I read about her on a web page, so I took a few liberties.**

**BUT, the story isn't quite finished... because we need to find out what one does with an unstable Batman. Plus, for all you BMWW fans out there, I'm sure you're also wondering about their relationship. All in good time, friends.**

**You probably know that I appreciate reviews of almost any nature. I also like intelligent banter on many subjects... some of my favorite personal messages and reviews have been by people making very accurate and inspired observations or suggestions - some almost disturbingly accurate, really. My email address is available for just that reason. Feel free to drop a line if you're so inspired!**

**As far as reviews... Thanks to those that have posted them - I reply as quickly as I can when they are received. To those that cannot receive responses;**

**To Anon:  
Once again (and I'm assuming you're the same Anon that has reviewed before), you have some very good observations and comments. Batman is becoming a little unstable. You questioned about lack of sleep... I'll just say that all will be revealed in time! As far as him being out of character... you betcha! That's kinda the point here - if he were able to stay the same old admirable Batman, there wouldn't be a problem now, would there? As far as the antidote and all that... Hey, I'm not a doctor - just a guy writing a little fan fic. I wish I knew enough to make it more realistic, but on some topics, I'm wingin' it here! Hope that doesn't take away from the story in your eyes! Thanks again.**

**To BKK:  
You're far too kind. You question about old Bat's opinion on new Bat's latest activities... spot on! In fact (tiny spoiler), you'll see that I make a comment about that in the next chapter. Thanks!**


	28. Chapter 28: Analysis

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 28: Analysis

The wind was blowing enough to scatter the odd newspaper or bit of trash at the abandoned textile mill in the outskirts of Blüdhaven. John's car was already there, parked next to Dick's motorcycle and a rather unassuming sedan. Clark and Diana drove there together. J'onn was aboard the Watchtower, making it look like business as usual. He would have to keep a telepathic link with Diana to listen in as they had all left their com links in orbit as to not be tracked. Flash, back in action, was on a mission with a fully-recovered Shayera, but they would join the rest shortly.

The location was dank and depressing. The building itself was dilapidated and crumbling and it seemed like the gusts outside could cause it to collapse at any moment. But it had weathered bigger storms than the ones brewing today… it would last a few hours longer.

Clark and Diana entered the building carefully. It was the large production floor of the mill, where many years ago Blüdhaven residents had proudly manufactured coveralls and working uniforms for all kinds of industries. Now there were odd holes in the corrugated metal roof. The grimy windows high up on the walls had cracked and missing panes. There was enough light on such a cloudy day for the two friends to make their way over the scattered bits of debris on the floor to where the others were standing.

"John, Dick," Clark nodded.

"Alfred!" Diana acknowledged with some surprise. She crossed the floor a little quicker and gave the gentleman an affectionate hug. "I've missed you these past few weeks. How was your vacation?"

The older man's eyes grew somewhat troubled, then regained their softness. He was about to speak up when Dick did so for him.

"He, uh…"

All heads turned to the young man, who seemed to have trouble finding the words to say.

"He was fired."

"WHAT?!"

"Master Wayne and I had a disagreement," Alfred began, putting his hand on Dick's shoulder. "He thought that I had achieved a proper age for retirement and graciously offered to…"

"He fired you…" Dick said again, shaking his head and looking at nobody.

There on the concrete floor, John had gathered a collection of folding chairs in a lazy circle. Alfred suggested that people make themselves comfortable before they 'start' the meeting. Clark removed his jacket and allowed Diana to pick a chair first. He took the one immediately to her left. The others found seats, and all attention returned to Dick and his companion.

"I had returned from my holiday three days ago… it was..."

"I didn't know he was back. Bruce had…"

"Master Dick, please," Alfred admonished the young officer as if he were a child acting up. "It is rude to interrupt and you know better!"

The other heroes poorly hid their mirth at the little scene.

"As I was saying, it was the day after all of that excitement you had with the Ultra Humanite. I was unpacking my bags when Master Bruce burst through the doors of my room…"

The others listened to the kindly man like children during a preschool story time. Only the story didn't seem like it would have a happy ending. In their own turn, they exchanged looks of confusion, concern and disbelief as he told them of his run-in with his former employer. They heard him use the most respectful words and descriptions for the unpleasant situation and they sat silently hearing about how Bruce basically forced Alfred out of the house.

The encounter had started off amicably enough; Bruce seemed genuinely happy to see his surrogate father again. He asked him about his time off and sincerely hoped that it was time well spent. But they talked very topically, not very warmly at all. The way Alfred recalled it, the whole scene sounded like political niceties, really.

As the two men talked, Alfred immediately reported to the kitchen and took a critical look at the room. At first glance, there seemed to be nothing wrong, but upon opening the cabinets, pantries and the enormous refrigerator, he didn't bother trying to hide his disappointment at their emptiness and/or lack of organization.

"Yeah," Dick blurted out, "Barbara and I had didn't find much to eat that…"

"Master Dick, I don't want to tell you again!"

"Okaaay, sorry!" the young man said holding up his hands, ducking.

"Now," Alfred continued on politely, "Master Bruce humoured me and patiently allowed me to rant about the state of those cabinets…"

The others listened intently, at times marveling at how the kind man worded his story such that it absolved Bruce of all wrong doing and somehow made it look like it was all Alfred's fault.

"I told him that he may now have incredible abilities, but he still needs someone to take care of him. I suppose I used the wrong words, because at that point, he became very upset…"

The story continued to describe Bruce's mounting belligerence towards Alfred's tactful wording. Bruce continued to insist that he didn't need anybody to 'take care of him' any more and Alfred wouldn't be bullied into caving. Instead, he pointed out how he suspected the kitchen was just the tip of the iceberg and that he expected to find other such messes 'swept under the rug' when he made his rounds about the manor. He hadn't meant to insult his employer, but that's exactly what it seemed he was doing.

"In years past, I was been able to shame Master Bruce into doing his chores by simply pointing out the error of his ways. Only this time it seems that my efforts weren't having the same affect…"

Bruce became more and more defensive, and thus, more and more confronting. Eventually, the butler cum father figure took a powerful stand, assuming the posture, expression and tone of voice that always had brought Bruce back to reality when he seemed to be too much into the darkness. But it didn't work like it had so often in the past. This time, Bruce erupted on the old man. He got in his face. He yelled. He berated him for implying that Bruce wasn't capable of running his own life.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" he had shouted at one point in the exchange.

"I could ask you the same question," Alfred retorted strongly.

For a moment, the wiser man seemed to have prevailed. Bruce calmed down… backed down. He turned away and seemed lost in thought.

Alfred, in true gentlemanly form, had to take several deep breaths to alleviate the anxiety that had been building up – although he had spine and stomach enough to maintain his composure. He adjusted his jacket and collar and confirmed his posture before continuing on with his attempt to rein his charge in.

"I see no need for this pointless bickering, sir. As far as I'm concerned, you have a job to do and so do I. Now please, allow me to do it."

Without waiting for a reply from the younger man, Alfred was off, busy reorganizing the canned goods in one of the pantries. He hadn't gotten far before Bruce appeared at the door, speaking quietly, looking down at nothing special.

"Alfred…" he started uneasily, "You've been… more important to me than any other person I've known. You've stuck by me through all this mess. You've kept me focused and you've made sure I remembered what path I've selected for my life. You've never tried to make me stray from that path and when I fell, you made sure that I got back up."

Alfred never stopped his reorganization efforts as he listened, although he did slow up a bit with the depth of Bruce's statements. He turned and smiled politely at his pause, nodding courteously.

"You've been the best father I could have asked for after Thomas Wayne."

"Thomas Wayne was a very dear friend to me. I'm simply trying to make sure that his beloved son…"

"But there comes a time," Bruce interrupted, his voice gaining, "when a father has to let his son go and trust that he raised him well."

Alfred's face dropped and his wrinkled hands slid softly from the cans up on the shelves.

"You've earned the right to enjoy your own life, now, my old friend. It's time for you to stop taking care of me and let me take care of you."

"Sir, I…"

"Alfred… I think you've earned your retirement."

* * *

The members of the League sat on the edge of their seats listening to Alfred's recount of his interaction with Bruce. And although, outwardly, the Englishman didn't show any pain or sorrow… or sense of betrayal… it was clear that he was feeling a great deal more than his polite words said.

"He promised to provide me with anything and everything I could ever want… a house anywhere in the world… all the furnishings and amenities I could fancy. In fact, he even offered to hire me my _own_ butler! Can you imagine that…"

"He's throwing you out of the house," Dick enunciated, trying to convince the old man to drop the act of courtesy.

Alfred was about to admonish Dick yet again, but couldn't seem to find the heart. When it was clear that he had nothing more to say for the moment, the others found the opportunity to start asking their questions and adding their own experiences. This was, after all, a secret gathering to covertly discuss what to do about Batman.

"I had a run-in with him earlier that day," Dick spoke up. "Actually, it was very early in the morning. J'onn had called asking if I had seen him…"

"That's right," Clark added. "You said you hadn't."

"Well at the time he called, I hadn't. But I went down to the cave and there he was… trying to put the Batmobile back together."

"Why didn't you tell us?" John asked a little annoyed.

"Well, _you_ were still in bed," Dick replied rather sheepishly, "In fact only J'onn and Superman were around. I didn't call up because… well, we had a fight and he disappeared… ran out of the cave. I hopped on my bike and headed out to the city. I figured he'd probably find a dark gargoyle to brood on like he always does, but… I couldn't find him after that."

"Dick," Diana asked politely, "what kind of 'fight' did you two have?"

The young man paraphrased the encounter, trying to keep it factual and not clouded with his own feelings. He wasn't the only one that jumped when J'onn's voice spoke in their collective heads.

"_Dick, you're not telling us everything."_

All eyes turned expectantly towards the handsome, troubled face. He didn't return their stares but sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes never left his fidgeting hands.

"_Stop shielding him and stop shielding us. We need to know exactly what happened."_

Dick threw his hands down and sat upright with a huff. It clearly troubled him to repeat Bruce's words, not only because he was ashamed that his father had spoke them, but because he knew how they would affect the others.

"He pretty much said that the League was useless, that you all are a bunch of half-rate heroes and everybody's holding him back. Not in so many words, but… that's what it sounded like he meant."

Alfred shut his eyes. The others fought internally between their bruised pride and their pity for a friend that clearly was not in his right mind.

"Hey guys!" Flash's voice rang out as he zipped in. "Shayera's not as fast as yours truly, so she'll be a few more minutes. J'onn's going to beam her down when she's…"

The speedster paused when he noticed the mood of the gathering.

"Whoa… who died?"

"Batman…" Dick muttered under his breath.

"WHAT?!"

"Not literally," John explained, "It's just that… he doesn't seem to be the same any more… he's…"

"Oh, I get it," Flash spouted as he took a seat. Then he changed gears. "No, wait. I don't."

"Flash," Clark chimed in, "we're concerned that Batman's new powers have been…"

"Yeah, they're _great_, aren't they?" Flash all but shouted, getting excited just thinking about it. "I mean, look at what he did to Ultra's hide out…"

"Flash, he…" John tried, only to get interrupted but the enthusiastic youth.

"And the train! Clark, you were there… kinda… well, ok, maybe not the whole time, but _boy_ there was some good footage of that whole thing."

"Flash!" Dick had had enough. He stopped his buddy cold and ticked off the abridged list of reasons that everybody was concerned about Batman's state of mind.

"He fired Alfred. He's been taking on secret missions in the League's name. He's been running riot all over the earth, stopping petty crimes and jumping in where he isn't needed or wanted. His mind's unstable. His been moody and arrogant…"

"Dude, slow down…" Wally laughed at himself for actually telling somebody else to do so. "Let me see if I'm hearing you right… Batman can now do these awesome things, and he's going all over the world doing them… stopping crimes, helping people… and he's _always_ been moody and arrogant… I'm sorry, I just don't see what the problem is."

"He also said that _you_ were such a pain in the ass that the people of Central City should run you out on a rail!"

"Well," Flash considered with a smirk, "maybe he's right! I mean, sure there are a lot of people that love me, and who can blame 'em? But there are a lot of big wigs in that city that would just as soon see me toasted."

"He also said," Dick confessed, "that _'at least we got rid of Clark, he was the worst one of all.'_"

Clark turned to face Dick in disbelief. All others turned to look at Clark. After, what he considered some deep contemplation, Flash once again took the optimistic route.

"Oh, come on! You're not going to take that literally, are you? We've all seen how many times he's butted heads with the Big Guy… maybe he was just letting off some frustration."

The others heard Wally's opinion, but the head shaking seemed to show that nobody agreed with him. Alfred, however, beamed an impressed smile at the youth.

"Look," Flash continued, "I know he may be a little more whacky than usual lately, but the guy's had a rough couple of months, y'know? Adjusting to new powers isn't easy. John… how long did it take you to get used to your ring? I say we just give him a little more time. He'll come around and be his gloomy old, scary self. You'll see."

There was no immediate response from anybody. After a few seconds of silence, Shayera appeared in a flash of blue and white.

"What did I miss?" she asked with a touch of concern as she took the last open chair.

"They all think that Batman's gone wacko," Flash said, crossing his arms and leaning back defiantly.

"And what do _you _think?"

"I think they're jumping to conclusions. He's just going through an adjustment phase, that's all."

"Hmm" she grunted, nodding thoughtfully. "I would have thought that you'd be the _last _one to stick up for that man."

"I don't have to 'stick up' for him… he… well, he's not crazy, that's all. OK, not _that_ crazy."

"Well," Shayera said looking at all the concerned faces besides Flash, "I don't know what you guys discussed before I got here, but I know that there was _one_ thing that I wanted to say about all this."

"What's that?" John asked.

"I think he's lost it."

'_I would like to add some of my own observations to this conversation if I could…'_

"I say!" Alfred said in frustration, "I do wish there was some way he would warn us before he did that!"

"_I apologize, Alfred, but this is the only way at the moment."_

"Go ahead, J'onn" Diana said outloud.

"_Batman _is _becoming more and more unstable. It has been very gradual, and Flash is correct in that many of these accounts of his erratic behavior can be potentially explained by the unusual occurrences of the past several months. But there are other signs that are more subtle. These signs point to ways that Batman's mind is losing focus."_

"What ways?" Lantern ased.

"_One of the first things I noticed was the fact that he let up on his research in restoring Superman's powers. The notes that I saw lacked his usual cohesion and thoroughness. Then he abandoned the research altogether. While this may not seem significant by itself, I believe it is just the first in a string of unsettling events."_

J'onn went on to spell out the 'other events.' He discussed the extra missions and how they showed a trend of more physical confrontation and less planning. By his own accounts, Batman had cataloged how he was using his powers more and more during his patrols and his powers of deduction less and less.

He went on to explain that, although he wasn't aware of it at the time, J'onn could look back now and see that Batman's suggestion for Clark to reveal his secret to Lois was, in fact, very out of character. He had been able to disguise it as a logical step in defusing a touchy situation, but J'onn had caught signs that it was, in fact, a way for Batman to try to give Clark another reason to not _want_ to be re-powered.

While Batman clearly had moments that were perfectly in-step with his normal characteristics; the brooding, the mystique, the standoffishness, these moments were becoming more frequent and more severe by degree.

J'onn pointed out that the Batman of old would never have left Clark alone in the LuthorCorp labs without a good reason, or at least without letting it be known. Dick interrupted him and recalled the guilt Bruce had displayed when recounting that particular event. His injection gave J'onn another point to present; many times lately, Batman has been found speechless, or stammering. His mind has lacked focus. J'onn was able to attest that he had been feeling a spectrum of thought patterns and emotions radiating off the Dark Knight, when in the past, he was just as dark and vacant emotionally as he was visually.

'_He doesn't seem to be shielding his mind from me as he always had in the past. I don't think he _wants_ me to hear his mind, but I believe he isn't even aware that he's being heard. Like many other things, it's as if he has lost his ability or will to keep focused.'_

"And I think he's projecting, too," Dick added. "I think he hasn't been keeping his mind as sharp as he usually does, so he's slipping. When he ranted and raved about all the things that you all have been doing to make him angry, I think that he was really ranting about all the faults he's been seeing in himself lately."

"Kind of a subconscious thing, huh?" John asked.

"Something like that. Part of his mind still recognizes what he _should _be doing, but he's allowing his powers to cover for his mental slips."

There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation before Dick summed up a lot with a simple sentence.

"If the Batman from a year ago could see the Batman of today, he'd be pretty steamed."

* * *

"Thank you for coming, Lois, Mr. Kent."

"Thank _you_ for the interview, Lex," Lois gave right back, taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs in Lex's office. Clark took the other, keeping his eye on the bald man behind the desk.

"Well, it was the least I could do. After all, you got a hold of Superman for me, and because of that, he and his friends were able to bring that maniac down… not to mention, save my life."

Lex's easy smile did little to relax Lois and seemed to do even less for Clark.

"Actually, that was going to be my first question," Lois admitted. "Given your history with The Justice League, why _did_ you work with them on this?"

"Well, I'm not going to comment on any previous encounters I've had with the so-called heroes, but I will say that I worked with them _this_ time because both parties could clearly agree that The Ultra Humanite was a threat to humanity and he had to be stopped."

Lois did her best to maintain her neutral appearance and approach the interview as objectively as possible, all the while, suppressing her knowledge that the man to her right was one of the 'so-called' heroes. She had a long list of questions that she had drafted that were intended to seem innocent enough – typical journalistic questions anyone would expect in such an interview – yet also dig deeper into what Lex knew that he hadn't divulged to the authorities.

"I see," she noted dryly. "And you were here, in the building when the four kidnappers took over the labs?"

"Of course," Lex answered as if it should have been obvious. "It was a business day, I was in my office."

"Yet you were present at the crime scene and consequently got teleported to Ultra's warehouse…"

"I was monitoring the situation," Lex motioned towards several viewing screens on one wall of his office, "and when I saw that Superman seemed to have _saved the day_ I went to inspect the situation."

Lois paused as she jotted some notes. Clark stayed silent, but alert. Lex didn't even seem to notice he was in the room.

"And what happened after you found yourself in Ultra's trap?"

"As I told the authorities, I was able to bargain my way out of a bad situation and into a better one. There was a point when Ultra had me locked in his study. I was able to convince one of his guards that it would be to his advantage to let me out."

Lex's cockiness seemed to know no bounds. Nor did his flair for glossing over damning evidence and omitting consequential details.

Lois, took an extra second of silence before she asked her next question. Lex recognized the pause, as he knew the clever reporter always made the interviewee 'stew' a moment before being blasted with a toughie.

"One of Ultra's former assistants claimed that you were present when Ultra's brain was extracted from Deloris Winters' body. In fact…"

She flipped her notebook to the appropriate page so she could read the quote properly.

"… he said that you had promised all the technicians $500,000 apiece if they were to do the procedure and keep quiet about it."

Lex's easy smile grew slightly wider.

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding, "I was there for _part_ of that. I had seen what that monster had done to Ms. Winters and I did everything I could to _undo_ those terrible things."

"Why the hush-up money?"

"I don't recall offering anybody _hush up money._ And if I had, then this witness of yours wouldn't get any now that he has talked, would he?"

Lex's little chuckle didn't do much to lighten the atmosphere.

"He also said," Lois continued, "that you insisted that they perform the procedure even though all other such extraction procedures they had done in the past had killed the host."

"That's right," Lex answered strongly, regaining his seriousness. "I made a very tough decision on Ms. Winters' behalf. If I hadn't, she'd still have that criminal infecting her body! It wasn't an easy thing to do and I had to argue quite forcefully with many of the technicians present – they claimed it couldn't be done… but they did it. Now Ms. Winters is free to go on with her life."

"And what has happened to The Ultra Humanite?"

"I have no idea. By the time I had convinced them to perform the procedure, the authorities were arriving. I left the building to meet with them and when I returned, Ms. Winters was freed and Humanite was gone. As I mentioned – I was there for _part_ of it."

"They said that they extracted his brain and _you_ insisted that they place it into the body of an albino gorilla."

"Now, _that_ I would have loved to have seen! Look, Lois, that old man was brilliant and gifted, and I am deeply saddened that his genius wasn't used for the betterment of mankind. But he was also a madman, and quite evil. Whatever happened to him, if it was anything more than death, then he got better than what he deserved."

Lois continued to write her shorthand notes and Clark continued to study their subject. After a few seconds, Lois changed gears.

"What happened to Clayface?"

"I don't know. I did see them place parts of his body into, I believe, four biohazard barrels, but again, after I left the building, somebody must have done something with them. Because, by the time I came back in with the police, the barrels were gone."

"OK… now. What about all the equipment in Ultra's warehouse? Much of it was destroyed and some of it is corded off as evidence, but there have been reports that some items are missing. Do you have any comment about that?"

"Ultra and his people were the only ones that could comment on the uses and operation of those machines. He did confide the functionality of some items to me, but we didn't get a chance to discuss anything in detail. I know that many components were damaged during the fighting – by both the League as well as Ultra's own forces. What was destroyed, what was left in-tact and what may be missing I cannot comment on."

"One more question, Lex, if you don't mind… How has this experience affected you and now that it is all over, what are your plans?"

Lex took a deep breath and showed the most thoughtful expression of the interview. He stood up and slowly walked over to look out of his enormous windows and the Metropolis skyline beyond. He took a second of collection before answering.

"I don't believe I was ever in more fear for my life than I was that day. And while all the excitement was going on, I found myself second-guessing many things in my life. When it was over and I found myself not only alive but relatively unharmed, I vowed that I would make it my life's work to build this world into a better place for everybody. I plan on seeing that promise fulfilled."

* * *

"So, do _you_ think he was lying?" Clark asked Lois from the kitchen of his apartment.

"I wouldn't say _lying_, but you know how good he is at answering without answering."

Clark internally flinched at those words. They were so close to what Shayera had claimed he could do so naturally these days.

"But that's why your buddy J'onn was there instead of you, now, isn't it?" she smiled as he came back to the couch with the bowl of popcorn he had just made. "What did _he_ have to say?"

"J'onn said that he wasn't able to read much in Lex's mind because it could have blown his cover, but he did read some of the classic tell-tale signs."

"Like what?" she asked, reaching for a handful.

"Well, he's pretty sure that the albino gorilla thing is true, and Lex knows something about it. He also thinks that there's a chance that Lex has some of the equipment taken from Ultra's lab. In fact, he said that he caught a glimpse of a vision in Lex's mind of Superman flying and a large machine from the warehouse. John and Diana both claimed to have seen the machine he described."

"What's that mean?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but it's possible that it was a machine Ultra had built that was designed…"

Lois turned to look at her boyfriend as he answered. His voice was innocent enough when he said that, but there was clearly a spark of excitement in his eyes that he was trying so hard to suppress.

"…to restore my powers."

* * *

**AN: I have nothing to say here, simply because I think the story is speaking for itself. ;)**

**TO BKK:  
Thanks, my friend, for the reveiw - you're always spot-on with your observations! You rock!**


	29. Chapter 29: The Last Straw

Chapter 29: The Last Straw

"I'm sorry, Lois, I haven't seen him," Ma Kent said politely over the phone.

"Oh," Lois replied somewhat confused. "I'm sorry, he said he was headed back to Smallville, I just assumed that he would have stopped by the farm…"

"Well, you know Clark. He probably stopped along the way."

"Yeah, probably. Well, when he gets there, could you have him call me on my cell? I have his phone and I'm sure he's wondering what happened to it."

"I sure will. Bye, dear."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Kent. Give my best to your husband."

* * *

"You know," Lois started casually over dinner at a quaint bistro. "I was approached once by a certain, unnamed government agency because of my investigative prowess…" 

"Yes, I did know that," Clark played along, wondering what she was up to.

"Yeah… they said that my reporting showed that I had a natural talent for finding out secrets that would otherwise stay secret."

"They said _that_, huh?"

"Yep."

The two ate in silence for a few moments, him wondering what she was going to say next, her letting him stew about it.

"Yeah," she continued after swallowing a mouthful of milk, "they said that. Aaaand, they also said that I would make a great private investigator if I ever thought about leaving journalism."

Clark put his fork down and, with half a smile, stared right into her pretty eyes. She popped one more bite into her mouth with a touch of arrogance about her grin and her nose just a little too high.

"OK," he finally conceded, "what are you getting at?"

"Acapulco."

Clark's shoulders slumped and he looked away in resignation. Lois continued to enjoy her dinner with an air of triumph.

"You know," Clark finally said, "sometimes you make it hard to be your boyfriend."

"_Boyfriend?"_ Lois laughed.

Clark's face fell between confusion and disappointment.

"Well… I… we…"

"Relax, Smallville, I'm just jerking your chain. If you want to say you're my boyfriend, I have absolutely no problem with that at all."

She wrinkled her nose and her eyes sparkled with her smile as she spoke.

"But being Lois Lane's _boyfriend_ is hard work," she continued with mock seriousness. "One has to wake up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on me."

"No kidding," Clark mumbled to his food.

"Whazzat?"

"I said _no kidding."_ Clark admitted with a smile. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Just tell me, how did you figure out about Acapulco?"

"You left a travel brochure out on your desk at work. Then I saw the business card of the travel agent. I put two and two together… then I called the travel agent. She was surprised that you had actually told me about the trip after all the work you went through to keep it a secret and all."

Clark teetered between being upset and enjoying the challenge. She definitely kept him on his toes.

"So you know aaalll about it, then, huh?"

"Well," she admitted, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin, "not everything. In fact, I wouldn't have been so nosey if you hadn't been disappearing for hours at a time these past few weeks. What have you been doing, anyway?"

He didn't answer. In fact, if the lighting had been better in the restaurant, she would have seen him slightly blush. After what happened to the others during the recent battle, she had been keeping a closer eye on Clark. It had been just over a week since that day and she still got chills thinking about the dangers that hero life brings.

"Is it… you know," she whispered, her head nodding up towards the sky "… _official stuff?"_

"No, no," he replied. "I mean, I still report for monitor duty… you know that… but that's all."

He trailed off, realizing the more he talked, the more of his secret plans he was going to reveal.

"Oh. Well, then, what _have_ you been up to? Last night, for example. You said you were going to your parent's place, yet there was a good two-hour stretch between when you said you were going to be there and when you actually showed up."

Clark's face flattened into concern.

"What, are you checking up on me or something?"

Lois was suddenly on the defensive. It was Superman's voice she heard, not Clark's.

"Well…" she stammered, knowing she had been called out. He doesn't do it very often, but when Clark confronts her, she had learned that it wasn't to be taken too lightly.

"You know, Lois, I would have expected a little bit of trust from you. You'd think that I would have earned it by now."

Lois was mentally backpedaling. Her eyes darted around as she thought of ways to either justify her eternal nosiness or apologize with dignity. Before she found a solution, her boyfriend's face cracked with a laugh.

"Relax, hot shot… I'm just jerking _your_ chain!"

She rolled her eyes with a flash of annoyance and relief.

"Since you already know about the big surprise, I'll tell you all about the rest…"

Clark proceeded to layout the vacation he had been planning for the past month. He talked about the conga lessons he had taken. He talked about the warm-climate clothing and the tanning sessions. He told her about the 'Learn To Speak Spanish' tapes. And as he talked about the details he had accounted for, from horseback riding on the beach at sunset to massages in the morning, her jaw dropped more and more and more. By the time he had finished, she was very much speechless and more than a little flattered and impressed at all of his efforts.

"You've been planning and doing all of that even with all of that _other_ stuff going on?" she asked incredulously.

It was his turn to smile triumphantly.

"You really are a super man!" she said half to herself.

He popped his eyebrows up and held his smile a little wider, basking in the glow of admiration she was shining on him. His chest puffed up, maybe a little more than was warranted, but he felt very, very comfortable with himself at the moment. And very happy to give as much of a warm feeling to Lois as she always gave to him.

Then his smile plummeted and he raised his hand to his ear.

"Go ahead…"

XXXXX

"You're not going to believe this," Flash told Clark as he entered the monitor womb.

"Try me."

"OK… giant Gila Monster."

"You're right, I don't believe it."

"Well, _start_ believing it," Flash laughed, switching a monitor to show the animal in a canyon somewhere in the Nevada desert. "Everybody else is down there. I gotta get down there, too, and lend a hand. GL recommended that I call you up here to stand watch because there's a situation in Kasnia that needs watching and…"

"Yeah, I know. Could get ugly. I'll catch myself up on all that… you just… go do what you do."

Flash couldn't read Clark's face, but he did get the vibe that he shouldn't say anything stupid. So, to be safe, he said nothing at all and zipped out of the monitor womb for the teleporters.

* * *

It wasn't a battle, really. 

But it _was_ a genetically mutated Gila monster, grown to three hundred times its normal size and capable of catastrophic destruction. The animal was lumbering through a canyon in the general direction of Las Vegas. The Nevada National Guard was positioned on the outskirts, waiting to use force as a last resort, but everybody was hoping to avoid that.

It wasn't a monster in the classic, black-and-white movie sense. It had no streak of malice. It was simply doing what Gila monsters naturally do; looking for food and water. When the League figured that out, it was a simple task of directing the animal away from populated areas, out of the arid canyon and towards a wildlife refuge.

"You call that a _simple task?"_ Lantern asked as J'onn outlined their plans.

"Well, simple in concept. Execution may be somewhat… tricky."

"You don't say…"

It took some ingenuity, but the members were able to block canyon passes and create diversions or activity to direct the animal eastward towards (what they hoped would become) its new home. After a few hours of creativity, they found themselves confronted with another small bump in their 'simple' plan; a major highway.

"Can't you just make a bridge with your ring?" Flash asked his exhausted friend. He got an epic look of 'are you for real?' as an answer.

"The thing's almost 200 meters long, man! I don't have the juice to make a bridge strong enough to support it!"

"Well, then, I guess I'll have to go out and stop a little traffic!" the speedster announced.

"Wait!" Shayera ordered. "Wonder Woman is on her way. She's in the Javelin and she's picking up a team of scientists… she says that they have an 'antidote' of sorts that they think will reduce the animal back to its normal size."

"That is fortunate," J'onn said, activating his communicator. "Wonder Woman, this is J'onn. How soon can you get them here?"

"In about twenty minutes," came the reply. "It will take some time to load all this equipment."

"That's not soon enough," Lantern complained.

"Well, back to traffic duty!" Flash announced and zipped off.

The other three exchanged looks of concern. The animal was getting closer to civilization with each passing moment.

"We have to do _something_ to stall it," Shayera complained.

"I agree… but what?" J'onn asked. "All of the other options that we have considered could harm the creature."

"It would be a shame," Lantern observed, "but in a toss up between one giant lizard and a city…"

Shayera shot him a look.

"Well, it's not like they're an endangered species," he explained.

"Still," she continued after a frustrated sigh, "We have to slow that thing down until Diana can get here with the scientists… and I'm out of ideas."

"I'm not," the familiar baritone sounded from behind the three.

They all spun around to find Batman marching right for them, a steel drum hoisted on his shoulder. They parted as he approached and he continued right past them as if they weren't there. He walked on, plain and normal like he was going for a stroll… directly in front of the animal, which gave him considerably less attention.

The enormous beast continued on his path, drawing closer to the dark figure, the earth shaking with each footstep. Batman calmly stopped twenty meters ahead of it and gently placed the barrel down on the rocky ground. He took in a huge breath, unlatched the locking ring and tossed the lid to the side, then kicked the whole thing over.

The grey liquid spilled out across the sand and rocks and instantly began emitting soft vapors. After waiting a few precious moments for the gasses to form a more potent cloud, he blasted his breath out, sending the oversized animal an oversized dose of sleeping agent. Within minutes, the lizard was snoozing away peacefully in the Nevada sun.

The others had looked on in shameful wonder at the simplicity of it all. They had been preoccupied with using their abilities to direct the animal and embarrassingly hadn't considered many alternatives… like _stopping _it peacefully. Only Diana would be able to say that she had thought 'outside the box' on this one, as she was the only one that took the initiative to seek out help from the scientists.

"Now, why didn't I think of that?" Flash whispered as he rejoined the others. He was surprised that Batman, standing more than fifty meters away, turned and responded.

"That's a good question," he answered, his voice calm yet louder than normal humans would talk. In the blink of an eye, he zipped back to stand before the other four. "Why didn't _any_ of you think of that?"

The tone of voice wasn't antagonistic, but it also wasn't rhetorical; he intended somebody to answer. However, the question itself had very few answers that didn't implicate some level of incompetence. He may as well have asked them why they were all so dumb.

Instead of degrading their own dignity any further, they all kept mum with their eyes locked on the Bat, who stood before them like a father berating his children. A few seconds ticked by, the minor twinge of tension growing all the while.

It wasn't the first time he had made the rest of them look foolish by providing a simple answer to a seemingly complex situation. Normally, he'd let them stew in their embarrassment, then he'd turn and walk away with a smug attitude. But this time, the atmosphere was tainted by the knowledge that there was inevitable conflict between this man and the rest of them. His recent actions screamed of a superiority complex and now, to punctuate the fact, he swooped in and saved the day _again_ – and although his superior strength and lung activity had been used, in reality he did it with his _planning_, not his powers.

The mounting tension was cut by the sound of the landing Javelin. The underbelly of the craft opened up and Diana trotted out and joined her colleagues. She didn't even bother pointing out the sleeping beast to the scientists and they didn't need her to, they just got right to work.

As she drew closer, she caught the proximity of those in the group; Batman standing and facing the rest. It looked like a classic confrontation. She soon realized that she may very will have to choose a side to stand on. Diplomatically, however, she kept her silence and stopped out of their conversational circle. The tone of the situation was spelled out for her by the simple fact that only a few heads looked her way… and nobody said a thing.

Finally, Batman turned to assess her presence. After another tense second of silence, he turned on his heel and started marching away.

"Batman, wait," Shayera found the guts to call out. "What's… going on with you? What's going on between you and the rest of us? 'Cause I'm a little foggy on this whole thing."

He stopped and shot back his response over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you dropped that _bomb_ on us about wanting to reorganize," she began, her voice growing stronger as she talked. He eventually faced her. "Then we don't see you or hear from you for days. You've been out, running around, doing… whatever it is that you've been doing. You haven't even filed any logs about what happened at Ultra's hideout… Now you pop in here out of the blue, make us all look like fools and you're about to walk into the sunset like some goddamned cowboy. There's a lot of weird shit going on and you seem to be the center of it."

As she listed her gripes, the others realized how much truth she was saying. One by one, they, too, grew stronger and seemed to band together in wanting some answers. One by one, their expectant eyes locked on to his… all but _hers._

Shayera had spoke sternly, plainly, but not very confrontationally. She wasn't picking a fight, she simply wanted answers. If he was in, fine. If he was out, fine. But not knowing was just plain dumb. And as arrogant and stubborn as he could be, surely he wouldn't refuse a few simple answers to some simple questions.

The moment wasn't chokingly tense, but it had an air of suspense to one degree or another for all present. It was also a moment of truth of sorts. As if his answers – or lack thereof, would define the League from that point on... A decided fork in the road for the greatest band of powers ever assembled.

Of their collective expectations, anything could spill out of his mouth at any moment. He could rant. He could berate them. He could apologize. He could explain. He could be elusive. He could say nothing and just leave. As a group, they expected everything and nothing at the same time.

He finally spoke.

"You people," he started quietly, shaking his head. "You just… don't… get it. No matter what it is I say or do, you don't seem to grasp the meaning of The Justice League and what it is that we're supposed to do for this world."

"Perhaps you could enlighten us," J'onn said in his trademark monotone.

"Pain."

"Excuse me?" Lantern asked.

"That's how _I_ got here," Batman answered. He pointed to the emblem on his chest. "This was born out of pain and loss. Some people, when they go through something painful, like what I went through all those years ago, they find ways to get around it, to get over it. They're either the lucky few, or the ones that are fooling themselves."

Diana finally found the strength to face him as he talked. The others were rooted to their own spots, keen to hear what this enigmatic man had to say.

"There are the few really mixed up ones… like me… that dedicate their lives to try to make the world a place where nobody ever goes through the same kind of pain I went through."

He paused long enough for that to sink in before continuing.

"Then there are the rest… the others that lash out, trying to repay the world ten-times over for their heartache. They are the ones that we find ourselves fighting the most often. But all in all, it's the _pain_ _and suffering_ that people bring upon each other that makes this world what it is – and _that's_ what we have to stop."

He jabbed his finger in the air as he spoke to emphasize the point.

"People must be strong enough to make choices and be willing to pay the price for the choices they make – good or bad. But somehow, the world has become a place where people are no longer held accountable for their actions. The rich ruin lives with the stroke of a pen and are let off scot-free and the poor are damned for trying to make ends meet. The extremes have become the norm and the masses have been made the outcasts. If you believe the Bible, you might say that we were in the first stages of the Armageddon."

He paused long enough to gage each face before continuing on.

"We are in the business of stopping the pain, people. We have an obligation to the rest of the world to hold people accountable. We've been doing that well enough, but we also need to light a path to those that can find no other way."

"While I don't disagree, in part with _some_ of what you're saying," John interrupted, "that still doesn't explain your actions or behavior over the past few weeks. And it doesn't answer Shayera's question; what's going on between you and the rest of the League?"

"There _IS_ no _League!_" Batman shouted, taking a menacing step towards Lantern.

The shock they felt was visible in their respective faces.

"This… whole… MESS is just one big farce after another! That damn Boy Scout tries to save the world, but he's too incompetent to do it alone, so he goes chumming for help. The rest of you follow along like _sheep_ and when you get lost, you come crying to _me!_ I built that orbiting clubhouse of yours… I _designed_ the damn thing and you all just… sit up there _waiting_ for something to happen."

His voice grew louder, beyond normal human levels. His face strained as he continued on, growing more angry, more irate – illogically so. Had the others not been keenly aware of what he was capable of physically, they would have simply written him off as deranged – a madman even. But with his new powers, he was more akin to a ticking time bomb, or maybe more like a falling atom bomb. Not only that, but he was Batman, after all.

As if they needed a reminder, his physical form started to blur and fade in and out of focus as he ranted, as if he were an old television losing its picture. In the middle of his rant, his body seemed to be taking action on his own, responding to his runaway emotions.

"Well, I've had it! I'm not going to _wait_ any more. People are going to get a true dose of _justice_ and they'll get it _exactly_ at the moment they need it. This… waiting around we've been doing all this time is nothing more than glorified _damage control._ No more. Now it's time to stop it before it starts."

He paused long enough to regain a touch of his composure. It was hard to tell, but he almost seemed a touch uncomfortable, realizing that he had been phasing between visible and invisible randomly throughout his little rant. And he spent a second or two facing each of the others, gauging their reactions.

The collective heroes did their absolute best to remain calm. Even after hearing what Dick had said the other day, there was still an underlying lace of disbelief… that things may have been taken out of context, or misrepresented somehow. But now, there was no mistaking the position this man held.

And he was also brewing the confrontation. His tone of voice alone all but challenged the others, not to mention the volume. His posture, his attitude, the expressions that were clear despite half of his face being hidden by the mask… they all blared out his declaration, his ultimatum.

Each and every member of the League had been the unlucky recipient of a full-power Batglare at one point or another – some more than others. And virtually every time, it had caused them to truly reevaluate the situation as they thought they knew it. And virtually every time, Batman was proven to be right in whatever caused the confrontation and was therefore justified in his uncouth tactics.

But not this time. His growing agitation, his exuberance, his irrational emotions, his illogical circles of argument were more a point of pity in their eyes than a tool of intimidation. And they called him on it.

"Now hold on a second," Flash said first, somewhat to everybody's surprise. "Are you saying that we should be going out and stopping the world from making mistakes? We don't _do_ that. We don't _think _for other people! What kind of an organization would we be?"

"Or, are you suggesting," John started coldly, his voice clearly repressing an considerable amount of irritation, "that the League couldn't function with out you?"

"No," Shayera answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "he's saying that we're just a bunch of janitors, cleaning up the messes that _real_ heroes like _him_ leave behind."

"I, for one," J'onn chimed in, "cannot believe that you would suggest that we don't know what pain and loss feels like."

The more they questioned him, the more they confronted him back, the more irate he grew. He diverted his stare away from them, his head shaking 'no' as they did. His fists clenched and his breathing grew ragged.

"Tell me, Batman," Shayera said with mock curiosity, "do you hear theme music in your head when have your little rants like that?"

His head snapped up to look right at the wise-cracking heroine. It offered her just enough of a split second to grab her mace, but she wasn't fast enough to bring it to life before he blasted her chest with the heel of his palm, sending her flying through the air.

Diana's jaw dropped out of pure shock, then her eyes slowly closed and her face melted into a pained wince in the realization of what she was about to witness:

Batman vs. The Justice League

* * *

**AN: Well, there it is. You knew it was coming. You saw all the signs. It was unavoidable, really. Something _had_ to give. Many of us believe that he could have taken out the other 6 on his own when he didn't have powers. Now he has powers, but his mind is off... makes the concept a little less certain, doesn't it?**

**(By the way - I've never been to Las Vegas, so as far as I know, no such canyon type place exists, I just made it somewhat generic. For those of you that know that area well, forgive me if this chapter made no sense. I expect flames.)**

**Many people have sent me personal messages asking about scenes or concepts that I have either glossed-over or negated all together. I'm more than happy to share what was (or is) in my mind when I write this silliness. If you have any questions, please feel free to drop me an email or pm. I look forward to hearing what you all think about the upcoming battle!**

**As always, many thanks to you readers for your patience and indulgence. You reviews and private messages are always welcome. I like to think that this story has been made better because of the feedback I receive. I hope you think so too. So, per usual, many special thanks to my Beta; K-N, who does more than find my mistakes, she also keeps me in check.**

**To BKK:  
As always, you are too right on in your observations. Very astute, my friend. And you mentioned not reading much about Batman's inner thoughts since the JL meeting with Lex. Yep - I'm doing that on purpose. He's an unknown... I'm trying to keep it that way. And Flash? He can be a great character for many, many reasons. He'll chime in when least expected and spout off something either incredibly profound, or as aloof as anything. I could go on about what I think of that character, but that's really a whole 'nother story (Like (shameless plug) my first Fanfic ever; Learning the Reasons)**

**Thanks,  
WL**


	30. Chapter 30: Clash

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, If something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 30: Clash

Lantern's ring was bright and shining before Hawkgirl landed, twenty feet away. He blasted the Dark Knight from the side, sending him sprawling across the sandy floor of the canyon.

"You son of a bitch!" John grinded out as his the green energy of his ring twisted into a balled up fist and swung again.

The impact didn't seem to have the desired affect, as Batman was able to recover and stand up without much trouble. John had held back, considering the amount of power he was unleashing, but not considering his target's heartiness. He rethought his approach, and, now in the face of Batman's abilities, he swung again… harder.

He missed.

His target had disappeared and blazed off at amazing speed, the spray of dust and gravel giving evidence of the direction.

"John! Stop!" Diana ordered, grabbing Lantern's arm. "He is _not _our enemy."

"I got a bruise forming on my chest that says otherwise, Diana!" Hawkgirl protested vehemently as she rejoined the group.

"We've driven him too far!" Wonder Woman retorted. "We have to…"

"_WE?!"_ John chided. "Lady, _we're_ not the ones that _started_ this, but if he doesn't come to his senses soon, then by God, we're going to _finish_ it!"

"Yeah, I'm convinced now," Flash added with a touch of disappointment, "The guy's off his nut, Diana. Something has to happen to bring him back."

"That may be true," J'onn agreed, "but I'm not convinced that physical confrontation is that answer."

"It might not be the answer," Shayera declared, eyeing the direction her attacker took, "but it's the language he's talking right now. I say we talk back the same way!"

Lantern launched into the air and scanned Batman's trail with his ring. He took a moment to follow it as far as he could, then surveyed the surrounding areas.

"Wherever he is, my ring can't find him," John reported, landing amongst them. "And knowing him, he's probably a hundred miles away by now…"

"See, that's where you're wrong," a voice boomed from seemingly everywhere in the canyon at once. "You think you _know_ me…"

They all turned outward, facing any direction.

"Bring it on!" Shayera yelled.

"NO!" Diana commanded. "All of you! STOP THIS!"

Wonder Woman hadn't even finished her plea when the earth shook with the impact of an invisible mass landing in the center of the small group. Before any of them could turn around, unseen feet had blasted Hawkgirl to the ground, and invisible fists had smashed Green Lantern against the canyon wall.

The other three heroes didn't know what to expect. Clearly John and Shayera were at the top of his list in this confrontation, but did Batman have any reason to include them as well? They were not cowards, but they also didn't want to get drawn into a devastating battle, the outcome of which could not produce anything positive.

Flash, it seemed, didn't want to take any chances. He muttered something about 'enough of this' and streaked away from the scene.

J'onn didn't take an offensive stance at all, but instead, phased into a phantom of himself, negating any kind of conventional attack. "You cannot win," he tried to predict, but his low, monotonic voice was tainted with uncertainty. "Please, stop your attacks and listen to reason."

Diana's hands instinctively came up, fists and all. She struck a fighting stance, although she had absolutely no intentions of fighting him. Her eyes watched the sandy ground, looking for footprints or telltale signs of motion. Her senses heightened and she waited, reluctantly, for the next move to be made.

For a few strong seconds, nothing happened. Shayera regained her feet, gripping her mace to life. She was seething through gritted teeth. This was the second time she'd been knocked off her feet without so much as a single swing thrown in return. She was _not_ going to let there be a third.

"You're a goddamned coward, you know that?!" she challenged. "Come out and _fight_ me!"

"I'm not fighting you," came a calm reply from behind her. "I'm doing you a favor."

The green globe appeared suddenly, unexpectedly. Lantern had recovered from his initial blow and, honing in on the voice, encompassed the invisible threat with his ring. In taking no chances, he started with a very large sphere, including several inches of earth in his capture. Subsequently, the bubble tightened down as he lifted it into the air.

"You've got some nerve," John declared.

Then the whole glowing mass started to shiver. The dirt and rock within it was stirred up into a clouded mess while the vibration shook Lantern's ring violently. It wasn't long before the green containment exploded, blasting the four heroes off their feet and through the air.

"And you've got some learning to do," Batman chided back. "You _all_ do."

The Dark Knight's body faded back into view and he stood stone-like, his shadow cast directly at the others like a sundial. His cape was draped around his body, his white eye lenses narrowed in a menacing glare.

The others stood up, slowly, wearily eyeing their accuser, watching for any signs that he was going to continue his offensive. Lantern's ring glowed ominously, Hawkgirl's mace crackled with life. J'onn stood tall and stared menacingly back while Diana tried her best to look passive, although her hand seemed to twitch in the general direction of her lasso.

Time crawled.

It was a classic western showdown in the desert; one man, standing against four opponents. The silence was interrupted by a slight breeze whistling through the canyon. The five stared each other down, daring somebody to draw first.

"This… _has_ to stop," Wonder Woman declared before anybody did. "John, Shayera… stand your weapons down."

"Not until _he_ does," John retorted.

Diana took a bold diplomatic move and cautiously stepped in between the two sides. She faced neither party on purpose, as to not appear partial, but kept her right towards the group and her left towards her lover.

"Alright then," she announced quietly, turning her head to look at each person in turn, "if anybody wants to be the first one to attack, they'll have to go through _me_ to do so."

She turned to eye Batman, who didn't even seem to acknowledge she was there. He just kept his cold stare on the other three. She then turned to look at the others to find the same behavior.

"Now, like I said before," she continued, her eyes darting between Green Lantern and Hawkgirl, "stand… your weapons… _down._"

The glowing mace and ring had just begun to dim when Diana was blasted by a gust of wind.

In the blink of an eye, the rogue hero had taken her by surprise and stolen the lasso off her hip. He tore a quick lap around the others, and tightened the coil enough to slam their bodies together. Everybody was taken by sheer surprise – especially Wonder Woman.

Batman stopped right in front of her, holding the end of the golden rope out for her utter disbelief, his eyes not leaving the three captives. He stood there, casually, offering her own weapon back to her like he was handing her a putter on the ninth green. He didn't even acknowledge her presence, but kept his gaze locked on the others.

Within the powerful restraint of Wonder Woman's magic lasso, even J'onn was held at bay. They were all made docile, the mace and the ring now dark. That didn't stop the venom in their stares, however.

"Here," he ordered Diana calmly, "get them back to the Watchtower and knock some sense into their heads."

She didn't respond, but kept her cold stare on his profile.

She had tried for days to protect him and his actions, to think up ways not to jump to conclusions as the others had. She had claimed that it was the fair thing to do; to consider all sides before passing judgment. She had told herself and J'onn that her emotions and feelings weren't in the way… and she had almost believed it.

And now here he was, making demands, ordering her to clean up his mess. As hard as she tried to stay neutral, as hard as she worked for the sake of the League as a whole, he seemed insistent on pushing it further and further. On top of that, he had _used_ her honorable intentions - her peaceful intervention of the conflict – as a diversion. Her diplomatic limits were stretched far too thin.

Not to mention her Royal pride.

"You've got to…" she tried, but was interrupted by his arrogance.

"I _said_… take them back _now."_

Her initial expression of surprise drained into one of irritation, then solidified into anger, verging on rage.

"No," she finally forced herself to say.

He seemed taken aback by it and turned to eye her quizzically. He seemed even more taken aback by the fury he saw in her face.

"You are going to let them go," she continued, forcing herself to word things calmly, "and give me back my lasso."

He turned to face her full on.

"Then," she added slowly, her voice gaining strength, "you are going to stop this idiocy, make a _formal apology_ and report to the Watchtower for a full physical and psychological evaluation."

The stare down was immense. Her eyebrows knit over the steeled blue eyes that locked onto his white lenses. Her red lips drawn into a tight bow and her fists planted firmly on her hips. She knew that her demands would never be met, but it would take more gall than even _he_ had to try to perpetuate this conflict in face of her resolve.

Or would it?

"Kiss my ass, princess."

Her right cross was blindingly fast and the crack echoed down the canyon. Batman's body flew headlong into a small boulder pile at the base of the canyon wall. Before he could sit up and recover from the blow, she had recaptured her lasso and released her colleagues.

However, Batman leapt to his feet quickly.

"Big mistake," he told darkly, his body fading out of sight.

"Oh, no you don't!" Flash announced as he roared by the invisible menace, several splashes of various neon colors drenching him back into view.

The young hero zipped back to stand within the folds of his other comrades, his hands still holding the cans of paint he had brought with him.

"Sorry it took so long… Hope I didn't miss anything," he said to the group, though his eyes didn't leave the spectacularly colored Batman. "I didn't know if that would work, I mean, he can make his outfit invisible too. But now… well, it looks like he won't be pulling his disappearing act any time soon… unless he gets naked, and that… well, that would just be wrong!"

Batman realized the futility of staying invisible at that point. He did his best to maintain his composure, but the paint had coated his mask and face. He wiped off what he could from his eye lenses and laid the coldest bat-glare he could at Wally. Somehow it didn't seem to have the same effect with electric multicolored accents.

The others, as stern as they were, poorly hid their amusement at the spectacle. As hilarious as it was, they still were in something of a fight. But their hidden chuckles and reluctant grins seemed to serve as further fuel to Batman's anger.

He didn't drop a clever line, didn't give them any warning… he just attacked.

And his first target was Flash.

In a fantastic burst of super speed, Batman tore across the void between himself and the small band of heroes and dove his shoulder into Wally's gut. Hawkgirl and J'onn got knocked off balance simply because they were in his way.

Batman tackled Flash to the ground, their two bodies skidding several dozen meters down the sandy gravel before coming to a stop. By the time they did, fists were flying at blinding speed, legs were twisting and bodies were rolling in a sadistic weave of Mach speed wrestling.

The dust billowed in clouds around the two, only offering glimpses of the scarlet and black/neon combatants. The muffled sounds of grunts and the occasional blow landing punctuated the tempest that the other heroes quickly closed in on.

The scene was a blur, too fast for the others to comprehend. There was no hope for anybody to join in as they would have been little more than an obstacle to Flash as well as Batman. Even John had to reconsider his initial instincts to try to use his ring to contain the furious activity. His arm still stung from making that mistake just moments ago. All they could do was to wait for an opportunity.

One didn't come, but there was a deciding melee that sent Flash to the ground, followed by a spray of dust and gravel as the Technicolor Knight blasted away down the canyon. Flash was quickly on his feet and after him. The trail wound for several hundred meters, a distance that he could cover in milliseconds, but the last turn proved to be the deciding point. Wally found himself banking the sharp bend and ran right into a titanic roundhouse kick across the face.

In the mean time, the others had all taken to the air. They flew a straight-line path over the twisting and turning ravine below. The twin trails were easy to follow and they collectively made a hard press when they saw the dusty clouds stop. There was a tremendous rumbling and sand and earth blasted into the sky from the canyon floor. It stopped before they could arrive and the entire area was perfectly calm by the time they started their descent, only the powdery clouds settling in the still air.

They landed en masse, their backs to each other, all ready for action. But there was no sign of either man nor was there any evidence that they had sped away. There were only signs of great commotion, but no bodies were found. No Flash, no Batman… they were just gone. They kept a sharp lookout for activity for a few rough seconds, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"You were already in big trouble before," Shayera called out, the rage plain in her voice "but if Flash is hurt…"

"_I can hear him," _J'onn told them telepathically, _"but I cannot pinpoint his location."_

Diana shut her eyes and tuned her other senses. Green Lantern started scanning the area, starting with the footprints that seemed to stop suddenly in the dust.

"There," Shayera pointed with her mace at patch of color in the shadows of a great crack that ran up the sheer cliff wall across from them. The others broke their formation to face that location.

That's when a hand blasted up from beneath the ground below and grabbed John's ankle. Before anybody could respond, the Green Lantern was grappled to the ground and his right hand was twisted back at a wicked angle. Batman's body rumbled out of the earth, holding the warrior in front of him, twisting his right arm behind his back. The two men stood in unison.

The others could do little, with John being held as a human shield. The man holding him was now a capeless, dusty, smudged neon and black mess. He held a glowing yellow device over John's ring with one hand and his throat with the other. After a second, he dropped his captive and eyed the remaining three.

Gasping for breath in the sand and dirt, John Stewart coughed and sputtered his strength back. He raised his right fist and pointed it at Batman's back only to find that the ring was gone.

"What the…?"

Batman didn't even spare him a look as he explained.

"A little something I lifted from Sinestro a while back," and he dropped the yellow device to the ground, a warped Green Lantern ring twisted within it.

There was a soft beeping sound and the Martian caught the subtle flash of a red light pulsing from a small patch on Lantern's back. After a second, he blazed away in a rush of teleportation energy.

There was only a small pause before the remaining three teammates were on the offensive.

J'onn changed form into an enormous horned creature, lumbering and top heavy, like a hairless alien primate. His massive arm swung but he missed and Batman used his own momentum against him, sending him skidding down the sandy ground.

Diana's lasso was dropping in fast and Shayera was airborne with and swooping in for the attack.

With a tremendous battle cry, Hawkgirl swung her mace in her double fisted grip. Before she could connect, Batman had caught Wonder Woman's lasso and, with a violent yank, pulled the Amazon into his arms, her back against his powerful chest. He gripped Diana's arm and raised it up to use the silver bracelet to shield them both from the Thanagarian's blow. The shockwave of the impact blasted a cloud of dust in all directions, sending the flying hero back a few feet. It took her a second, but she recovered in mid-air.

Diana slammed her head back, crashing it against his face, freeing her from his grasp. She spun around, swinging her leg at his head, smashing once, then twice. The third time, he caught her ankle and spinning, sent her flying into the Martian goliath, sending them both sprawling down the canyon.

Shayera dove in again, roaring out a battle cry and swinging her mace soundly.

"Strike one," he teased as he stepped back calmly out of range of the swing.

"Strike two," he continued, evading her backswing.

"Strike three!" he announced as she swung her mace down over her head like a sledgehammer.

In missing her weapon slammed into the ground and his heavy boot smashed down on the handle, holding the Thanagarian doubled over. She turned her raging face up in time to see his massive fist flying down to blast her into the canyon floor.

She was barely conscious enough to realize that he had relieved her of her weapon as he turned to face the other two. Before she could shake her head clear, she wasn't in the canyon any more.

J'onn was upon him again quickly. His giant arm swung and slammed Batman against the canyon wall, shaking rock and debris down from above. He had barely fallen onto the ground when J'onn swung again, sending him sprawling up the ravine towards Diana.

Batman got up on to his hands and knees and had just enough time to reach for his utility belt before the golden coils crushed his upper arms against his torso. He was pulled up onto his feet to face a furious Amazon, who was taking up the slack between them as she approached.

"Bruce, you've gone waaay… too… far. And this is going to stop… right… now."

There was no mistaking her resolve and her determination. She stopped a few feet in front of him and started commanding him his future.

"You are _not_ going to continue this ridiculous fight," she started, staring at Batman's blank face. "You _are_ going to report to the Watchtower, and you _are _going to…"

Her orders were interrupted by a quick hand slicing up from under his cape, an ancient pendant in his grip. When he clasped it against the lasso, purple magic snaked up the line and sent Diana screaming to the ground. Her hold fell off and he was easily able to shrug out of the restraint.

"Sorry, princess," he said with very little sincerity. He worked quickly to loop the lasso around Wonder Woman while J'onn's shadow loomed over him. He had just a split second to dodge yet another crushing blow.

The green monster snarled and swung again. His attack was easily dodged. The next swing wasn't dodged, however, it was caught. Batman torqued the huge arm around to slam J'onns face into the dust.

The Martian shifted shape into a long, alien dragon and lashed his tail against his foe, blasting him up and out of the canyon. He slithered up into the air, caught Batman in his coils and streaked further up into the sky.

"Not even with your great powers can you survive a fall from this altitude," the dragon hissed as they passed wispy clouds thousands and thousands of feet up.

The scaly body crushed in on Batman, pinning his arms tighter, squeezing the air from his lungs. He grunted and strained against the force, but with little avail.

Eventually, in the thin air ten miles up, J'onn stopped and twisted his body around to look Batman square in the eye.

"Batman, we are not your enemies," he tried to explain. "I don't wish to hurt you, but you are leaving me no choice. Please stop this…"

"I intend to," Batman growled out.

J'onn had only a moment to focus on the black jet streaking right at him, and a split second after that to see the missiles that it fired. He dodged and dove, ducking the weapons, yet watching them carefully to see if they would turn around for another pass. He failed to recognize the Batjet slicing in to hover directly over him, its searing jetwash scorching the Martian from above.

Instinctively, J'onn reverted to his true form, dropping Batman as he sped away from the fiery threat. Once at a safer distance, he turned to witness the craft plummeting down after its owner. He tilted over and streaked down after Batman himself. As he closed in, he saw the jet's cockpit slide open and the pilot and aircraft merge into one in an impressive aerial ballet.

"_Batman, please stop,"_ he begged mentally, _"I don't wish to harm you…"_

"_Don't worry,"_ Batman's thoughts responded,_ "you won't. In fact, you _can't!"

At that, J'onn stopped his pursuit of the plummeting jet and lost sight of it as it dropped through the last layer of clouds.

"_I will not continue this," _he confessed. _"I _implore_ you to listen to reason."_

Silence.

"_Batman?"_

Silence.

He scanned the sky below and around. He floated, wearily monitoring for any attack, any device screaming his way.

Nothing came.

That's when he noticed the almost imperceptible beeping. His alien ears, once tuned to the sound, picked up on it and pinpointed the device of its origin; a small electronic patch stuck to his back. He whipped his arm around, desperate to rip the device off his body and just as his fingers touched it, he saw a blazing white and blue light in his mind.

When his vision came back in to focus, he found himself in a windowless white room with three others. Flash was groggy and sitting cross-legged on the floor, Green Lantern was leaning against a wall and Shayera was just getting her bearings straight.

"Not again!" she moaned.

* * *

Without someone to command her, Diana was able to free herself from her own lasso and activate her com link.

"Superman," she called, her hand to her ear. "John and Shayera just teleported away… did you take them up to…"

"No, Diana," Superman interrupted. His voice sounded cold, sad.

"Well, then… how did they…"

"I think Batman had some kind of remote activation unit. The indications up here just jumped to life… I could tell that four teleports occurred, but they didn't come up here."

There was a pause as Superman looked more critically at his readouts.

"At least," he added, "they didn't _stay_ up here. Looks like he had them sent to some place… I can't say where. He's rigged it so the records are incomplete."

"OK," Diana replied after a deep sigh. She struggled to regain her cool after the short, heated fight. "There must be…"

She cut herself off when she heard the whining engines of the powerful black jet. The craft circled over her location, then landed gracefully on the canyon floor. She watched with her lasso firmly in her grip as the cockpit slid open and Batman casually climbed out.

He was still covered with sticky splotches of odd neon colors mixed with the Nevada sand. His cape was still stuck in the crag half way up the canyon wall, but his mask was in place. He hopped down and strutted around the craft and right up to her as if nothing had ever happened.

All the while, she kept an icy stare on his every movement.

"Where are they?" she demanded coldly.

"Safe."

"Safe?" she spat as if it were a dirty word. "Safe from _what_, Bruce? From _you?"_

"Yes. And from their own mistakes," he replied calmly.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" she shouted, pointing an accusatory finger.

"You know the answer to that question."

His lack of emotion was fueling her further into rage.

"No, I don't. You're not the Batman that I respected once… And you're _damn_ sure not the Bruce I fell in love with."

His head cocked slightly to the side. His jaw clenched and his lips tightened as if he were about to throw back his own rebuke.

She waited sternly for whatever stupidity he would say, but her hard stare slipped into slight confusion when he sighed heavily and his head sank.

"You're right," he admitted. "I'm not that man any more. That man was a weak and desperate dreamer... a scared child that couldn't give up crying for his lost mommy and daddy. He hid behind this mask so he wouldn't have to face the responsibility for his actions!"

With that he ripped off his cowl and discarded it as if it were contaminated.

"That man is dead. He's got no place in this world any more," he continued on, his face lifting and his gaze panning towards the horizon over her shoulder. "From now on, I am going to show the world exactly who it is that is leading them into righteousness."

She stared at this stranger in front of her, who was speaking to her now as if for the first time. She didn't recognize him any more at all. Gone was the energy of his eyes. The once electric blue now seemed a dull, pale emptiness. His usual confidence was replaced by nervous inferiority, as if his whole demeanor begged for her to respect his power.

To her, he looked pathetic.

"You're lost, Bruce," she accused, shaking her head with pity. "You're weak and you're foolish and you're lost. If you want to take that uniform off, then be my guest, because you have no right to wear the symbol that the _real_ Bruce Wayne worked so hard to build up and make synonymous with courage and integrity."

His head snapped to her at that.

"You've become the very thing," she continued, "that we've been fighting _against _all these years."

He had her full attention now. And he stood defiant.

"And if you think that you can _save the world_," her voice took on a chilling warning tone, "then you'll find you have the Justice League there to stop you every step of the way. Because what you're doing isn't saving… it's conquering."

He took an imposing step at her. She didn't budge.

"You're the one that needs saving," she declared with finality.

His fist flew up and cocked behind him. He paused enough to see that she didn't bat an eye.

She didn't know if he would actually strike, and she never got the chance to find out. They were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"BRUCE!"

Batman spun around to face his new adversary, his fists up and ready. His look of surprise and concern melted away at the lowly threat, walking towards him in the setting sun.

"Go away, Kent," he muttered with heavy annoyance, turning back towards Diana.

"No."

There was strength and resolve in Superman's response. Something old, something familiar. It caught Batman's attention.

The blue and red hero marched up to the shorter man and stood solidly before him. Batman turned his back on Wonder Woman and smiling, faced him full on. The cool, Kryptonian blue eyes seared into his.

Diana quickly stepped around to gauge the two men squaring off. She opened her mouth, but stopped herself just short of begging Clark to leave for his own safety.

Bruce's expression was almost that of amusement. He put his fists on his hips and nodded as if he were approving a tractor for sale. In the face of this disrespect, the taller man kept his resolve.

"Well," Bruce chuckled, "if you're going to be _that_ way about it…"

Batman's right hand blasted with inhuman speed up to take the other man's throat.

He didn't make it.

His wrist was caught half-way up by Superman's crushing grip.

* * *

**AN: First and foremost - I'm very sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I ask your forgiveness.**

**As always, thanks to you, the readers, that have been so patient with this project. I can't beleive it has take over a year to write (and 30 chapters so far!).**

**Extra special thanks to those that have faithfully posted reviews and send me personal messages. You let me know what I'm getting right and what I'm messing up. You keep me in line and, I believe, help make this a better story because of it.**


	31. Chapter 31: Finality

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, if something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 31: Finality 

Diana's jaw dropped.

Her eyes, wide and confused, darted from Clark's profile to his fist clenched around Bruce's forearm and back. She saw his whitening knuckles and the two men's arms shook with the amount of power they were exerting on each other. She saw Clark's jaw set firm and she could read the determination in his cool, blue eyes.

Bruce, however, was a different scene. He was furious. His features twitched and contorted with his building rage as the realization sunk in that he was being truly confronted by a force he hadn't considered.

"Diana," Superman said quietly, strongly, not taking his eyes off Bruce. "I need you to do something for me; fly up to the western edge of the canyon – you'll know what to do after that."

"But…" she started to protest.

"Please," he asked again, firmly, calmly. "There's something I need you to do up there."

Hesitantly, she backed a way a few steps, took one last look at the two most important men in her life, then lifted into the air for the spot Clark specified. All the while, she was unsure if she was doing the right thing.

The two friends kept their eyes locked on one another until Diana was airborne. Not until then did Clark release Bruce's arm.

"So," Bruce said after calming down, or at least _appearing _calmer than before, "you found a way to restore your powers."

Clark didn't answer.

"What'd you do?" Bruce said with clear disdain. "Make a deal with Luthor to use the machines that he stole from the crime scene?"

"Luthor has nothing to do with this," came Clark's firm reply.

"Oh, that's right," Bruce spouted sarcastically, "protect him some more, Clark. After all, you're his biggest supporter!"

Clark drew in a deep, disturbed breath through his flaring nostrils as he continued.

"What kind of hero could Superman _be_ without Lex Luthor in the world?"

Clark's cool grip on his emotions started slipping.

"I don't need Lex Luthor be a hero. How could you even suggest that?"

"Oh drop the pretense, Clark! You sit up there in your _seat of power_, looking down on humanity like it's your own private zoo… you grace us mere mortals with your presence when the show is _really_ big and the adoring throngs are there to feed your ego!"

Clark pointed his finger at Bruce's chest.

"That's not true!"

"Oh, really? When was the last time your actions didn't make the newspapers? When was the last time you did _anything_ and it didn't get a round of applause?"

"When have I ever stayed to _let_ them applaud, Bruce?" Clark quickly turned the tables. "I don't do that, and you know it! _We_ don't do that. That's not the kind of person _either _of us are."

Bruce started shaking his head.

"You had it _all_, Clark! You could have done _anything!_ You could have been the one that showed the world the right way to live. You could have taught them that their actions have consequence."

Bruce turned and paced as he talked. His hands became animated and his voice took to a degree of feeling Clark had rarely heard from his friend.

"How did it feel when you woke up on the Watchtower to discover that you were just like the rest of us? Did you feel weak? Did you regret all the things that you _didn't_ do when you were the strongest man in the world?"

"This isn't about me, Bruce!" Clark forced himself to say. He had almost forgotten that the entire reason he was even standing in the canyon was to try to save his friend. "I'm down here right now because I see a friend in trouble."

Bruce spun to look at him. His face flashed from humor to rage and back.

"Oh, is _that_ it? You think that I need _saving_ now? Diana said the same thing not five minutes ago…"

He turned his head towards the ridge over which she had flown.

"… and I gotta tell ya, buddy," he admitted with clear condescension, "I'm starting to think that the whole lot of you are seriously messed up."

"_We're_ messed up?!"

"You, Diana… God knows Shayera and her pet, John are bonkers. Wally's always been a waste of space…"

"Damn it, Bruce! Would you _listen_ to what it is you're saying? Would you have even _thought_ these things a year ago? What would you have done if somebody said those things to you back then? You would have had them locked away!"

"You're probably right," Bruce harrumphed, his head nodding. "Poor, little rich boy _would_ have done something like that. Then again, I always was somewhat delusional when it came to those kinds of things."

He turned to Clark with a half smile.

"You know, there was even a time when I thought _you_ were the hero to beat all heroes. Hell, I even admired you. I fooled myself into believing that the way you used your powers was impressive… that you didn't do more than you did because you were being benevolent."

He turned to face Clark head on and his face grew hard.

"But now I can see that you were just a damn coward. You were afraid to step out of your cute, little, Boy Scout role and take on the responsibility of being a _true leader._ Sure, you stopped the criminals and you put them in jail. And when they got out… and they _always_ got out, Clark… you happily stepped in to _saaave the daaaay again!"_

"What should I have done, Bruce? Break their necks? Should I have killed them?"

"If necessary."

Bruce's answer chilled him to the bone. Clark searched his friend's eyes and saw that there was no remorse for what he just said.

"Is that what you'll do, Bruce?" he asked quietly.

"No," Bruce answered casually, shaking his head. "When I'm done, there won't _need_ to be any more killing. There won't _need_ to be so many prisons."

Clark's blood ran even colder at what he was witnessing.

"When you're done doing _what?"_ he asked carefully.

"When I'm done," Bruce declared strongly, jabbing his finger in the air, "_fixing _this whole… damn… planet."

Clark took a strong step at his friend.

"You… are not… a god!"

"No, I'm not," Bruce responded quietly, strongly, taking a step as well. "But I _am_ going to save them."

The two were standing just a few feet apart, locked once again in a Homeric standoff.

"I am going to do," Bruce declared, "what you never had the _spine_ to do. And I'm going to succeed where you failed."

"What you're doing is wrong, Bruce. If you can't see that for yourself, then you're already too far gone."

"You _would_ think that," Bruce laughed. "But that's _all_ you would do… think… and talk."

"No," Superman corrected, "I plan to do a lot more than talk. Bruce Wayne was my friend. Batman was one of my biggest heroes."

He closed the gap with one powerful step and stood toe-to-toe with Batman.

"I'm going to get them back."

In a replay of what happened just minutes before, Clark's hand flew up to grab Bruce's throat, but was stopped in Batman's crushing grip.

The fight was on.

* * *

In a move more of skill than raw power, Clark's other hand grappled Bruce's and torque it down and over, twisting Batman around. He wrenched his arm free as he turned the shorter man, and swung it around Batman's chest. 

Having none of it, Bruce dropped to one knee and used Clark's arm to throw him across the canyon, slamming him into the rocky walls. The crash echoed down the canyon and rocks, dust and debris shook loose from above.

Bruce blazed across the distance and found handfuls of red cape on top of Clark's shoulders. He flipped him over again, slamming his body into the ground. He followed up by dropping hard, slamming his knee against the back of Superman's head, smashing his face into the earth even more.

An enormous blue arm swept around, knocking Batman's feet out from under him. He grabbed a black boot and, as he rolled over onto his back, he swung Batman's body with him, crashing him into the ground with a tremendous shudder.

Superman was on his feet quickly and prepared for more. Batman had only risen to his knees before he swung his leg around for the red boots. He wasn't quick enough as Superman easily avoided the sweep.

Batman completed the spinning move with a back kick aimed at Clark's gut. It was caught and he was sent flying into the stony walls. Superman was looming over him yet again before he got his bearings straight.

A massive hand grabbed Bruce's shoulder and a blow to the stomach knocked the wind clean out of him. He doubled over and Clark let him fall on to his side.

Batman coughed and sputtered while his friend calmly waited for him to either stop or foolishly start again. He chose the later.

Still on the ground, he dove his shoulder for the knees. He only got a firm hold of one leg, however and that wasn't good enough for a throw. Superman calmly reached down and grabbed the back of his utility belt and lifted him off the ground like a suitcase. He spun and sent Batman sailing down the dusty canyon.

Once more, the Batman found himself on the ground at Superman's feet. His hand flew to his utility belt, but the Man of Steel was quicker. Clark arrested his arm with one hand and ripped the device off his waist with the other, tossing it miles away.

Batman reached for the huge shoulder and brought his knee up against the massive chest. It knocked Clark back enough to afford him a spinning back fist. Clark easily caught it in mid-swing and sent Batman slamming once again into the cliffs. He collapsed in a heap amongst the rocks.

Then Batman chuckled.

"Ok," Batman said as he rose to his hands and knees, "fun time is over."

He stood up to find Superman squaring off with him again.

"Either you're holding back, Clark," he reasoned as he took a fighting stance, "or you're not as strong as you used to be."

Clark couldn't hide his concern. His face told the whole story. He thought he had been doing well up to that point. He also hoped that his bluff wouldn't get called.

"No," Bruce continued as if talking to somebody else, reading his adversary's eyes. "You're not the Superman of old. You may have some of your strength back, but not _all_ of your powers. And it's too bad, too, because I would have liked to have seen what I could do against him. He might have been tough to take care of, but you… hell, you're hardly going to be a workout."

With those closing words, he lunged with a jab that was easily blocked, but his follow up strike sent Clark flying down the canyon. Bruce blasted across the sandy floor and punted the blue hero another hundred feet.

Superman had barely landed before he found himself the target of a blinding combination of kicks, punches and strikes. Blow after blow, kick after kick, Clark was blasted against the walls, sent flying through the ravines, skidding down the gravel and dust. He blocked the odd attack, only to fall victim to the next one. He even landed an odd blow in return, but with very little affect, and only to be devastated by the counter.

The new battle raged, one sided as it was. The thundering rumbled the canyon walls and clouds of sand and dust billowed out into the darkening Nevada sky.

Bruce continued his offensive, his rage building and fueling his attacks. He swung his fists harder than he could ever remember, the shattering sounds echoing all around him. He kicked with all his might, driving Superman against the cliffs, punishing him again and again.

The more he struck, the more enraged he grew. His friend was battered and dirty. His nose was bleeding and his eyes could barely stay open, but still after each assault, Clark got to his feet to face him again. The more damage Bruce doled out, the more Clark took it in stride. And the more Clark took, the more furious Batman became. As the rage coursed through his veins, as the raw emotion and primal aggression drove him into a seething, furious state, his loss of control over his own mind and thoughts showed through by his body snapping between invisible and visible. His powers showing to be his master.

"You come down here…" he spouted.

Punch.

"… trying to tell me that _I'm_ the one that's lost!"

Kick.

"That _I'm_ the one that needs saving!"

Slam.

"You're nobody!"

Kick.

"You're _pathetic!"_

He drove his heal against his chest.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" he shouted in Superman's dazed face.

He picked up Superman by his hair and smashed his head against his knee. The great man collapsed onto his side, half conscious.

Batman finally paused his assault. He dropped to one knee and looked his friend square in the eye.

"Why are you even here, Clark?" he asked desperately.

Between pants, Clark found the strength to look up through swollen eyes at Bruce. He forced a weak smile and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Like I said before," his dry, gravelly voice managed, "I'm trying to save a friend."

With that, Bruce stood upright and shook his head.

"You can't even save yourself," he asserted sadly, waving at the man in the dirt.

He shook his head in pity.

Suddenly, Clark's heavy breathing stopped and he swallowed. He head turned slightly and his expression grew distant for the briefest of seconds. Then his eyes sharpened and he looked back up to Batman, his grin growing shrewd and knowing.

"I can do both," he declared.

Before Batman could react, the Man of Steel was on his feet and grabbing Bruce's shoulders. The move was careless and clumsy. Batman easily reversed it, and twisted Superman's body around, holding him off the ground with a mighty arm around his neck.

"I told you," he growled in Clark's ear, "I don't… need… saving!"

"Yes, you do."

The giant, blue hero drew in a deep breath and shouted.

"NOW, DICK!"

Batman peered over Superman's massive shoulder to see his son atop the far canyon wall, Wonder Woman by his side, the two silhouetted against the purple and orange sunset. He was holding a large, bulky weapon and aiming it at the bright, red "S".

There was an unworldly bright flash, and flame and fire blazed up around the two heroes in the canyon. Then all Batman knew was darkness.

* * *

Diana had left the two men alone in the canyon and glided up to the spot Clark had specified. Before she landed, she found Dick Grayson standing among a series of small crates. He was busy tinkering with several unknown items. 

"Dick," she called out, landing near him. "What are you doing here?"

The young hero, in plain clothes, looked up long enough to recognize Diana, then quickly turned back to his work.

"I'm trying to get this blasted contraption together," he answered, wiping his hand on his pants.

Diana took in all she could about the crates, their contents and the devices Dick had in his hands. Clearly, the young man was busy, so she kept quiet for the moment, trying to figure out some answers for herself.

Some of the items looked familiar, but she couldn't formulate their purpose.

"What is all this?" she finally asked.

Dick motioned to a loose booklet that had fallen onto the ground.

"This is the counter to the Achilles Device," he announced. "This is the thing that Bruce and J'onn managed to build a few months back. It was stored, disassembled, in the Batcave."

"That's right," Diana agreed, remembering what little she could from the unfinished research so many weeks ago. "I remember them saying that they could remove Batman's powers if they fired this at Superman while he was in contact with Br…"

Her eyes grew wide as she remembered the rest of it.

"…but in his de-powered state… Superman would be _killed!"_

"I know," he admitted, nodding frantically, wide-eyed as he worked feverishly to assemble the weapon. "But he said that he had found some way around that."

Diana drifted to the edge of the canyon and spied in on the two men. They were in a heated debate, but nothing physical, thankfully. She watched for a few seconds, replaying in her mind what she had seen just moments before. Clark was not only able to catch Bruce's hand and hold it fast, but he also had the reflexes to do so.

"Dick," she called out as she returned to the young man, "did Clark find a way to restore his powers?"

He shook his head quickly.

"A little… maybe… I don't know."

Dick reached into a crate for a new component and swapped one tool for another.

"He told me," he said without looking up, "that he'd be OK."

Diana watched and wondered. Dick was working quickly, efficiently, but with more than a touch of urgency. He also seemed to be working reluctantly.

"But you don't believe that, do you?" she finally asked, putting two and two together.

"I don't know," he sighed. "He _did_ pick up all these crates at one time… so I guess he's stronger, now… but if he's as strong as he used to be… I can't say. He didn't _fly_ down into the canyon, he had to teleport down there after sending me and all this stuff here."

Diana's keen mind considered the possibilities. Clearly there was a plan in place. Clearly Dick was to fire the device at Clark while he was physically in contact with Bruce. Whether it worked or not wasn't the only question – there was also the possibility that either or both men could get killed.

She didn't like it.

"No, there's got to be another way," she demanded strongly. "It's too dangerous."

Dick finally stopped his construction and looked up. He caught her eyes for a moment and she could see his fear as well. But he shook his head and looked off into nothing at all.

"I don't think there is, Diana," he said cheerlessly. "I thought there might be… but I've been wrong about _everything_ so far. I was wrong when I told you not to worry about him. I was wrong when I sent the three of you down to Ultra's warehouse…"

His voice trailed off. His handsome, young face seemed to grow old as she watched him. He had more on his shoulders than any man his age should ever bear.

Diana stepped around next to him and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. When he didn't look at her, she gave it a gentle squeeze and a playful shake.

"Hey! Nightwing!" she smiled softly, bringing him back. "You aren't only one that's ever been _wrong_. And as far as sending us down to the fight… that was the only thing that actually went _right_ that day. _We_ were the ones that messed up, not you!"

He finally took in her warm, blue eyes. She was so comforting, so reassuring… honest. He got lost for only a moment before his easy smile found its way back. And he resumed his work with unparalleled efficiency.

Able to work cleanly and efficiently in the direst of circumstances. Able to put his mistakes behind him and _learn _from them. He was so like _him_ in so many ways.

"So," she began, changing gears, "Superman sent me up here and said that I'd know what to do…"

"Uh, yeah," Dick answered somewhat uneasily. "Well, y'see, here's the plan… and it's Superman's plan, not mine. Personally, I think it's crazy, but he _insisted."_

Superman had determined long ago that something had to happen to 'pin Batman down.' He had been so elusive that it was even more impossible than usual to predict where he would be at any point but when this activity in the desert brought him out, it became clear that it could be the best opportunity to take action. He called Dick immediately and teleported him up to the Watchtower.

Dick readily agreed with Clark about Bruce's slipping state of mind. And it wasn't a hard sell to conclude that Batman was becoming an issue that could have a global influence. There was some debate back and forth between the two men about the timing, but Clark soon convinced him that if something wasn't done to bring the _real_ Bruce back soon, then something bad could happen.

That's when Clark told Dick about the counter device. Dick had seen the crates in the Batcave before, but there were many things down there that he was unfamiliar with these days. Once its function was described, Dick's mind started running through the possibilities and dangers, but Clark had talked very convincingly about the course of action they needed to take. To further emphasize the point, Clark was able to tune Dick in on the arguments that were brewing between Batman and the others… then the two listened and watched as the fighting began.

That's when Dick jumped on the wagon. It had gone far enough and this was definitely the best time to act; it would be impossible to predict if they'd get another chance, or more depressingly, if something catastrophic would happen if they didn't act now.

He and Clark worked diligently to locate all the appropriate equipment and get it down to Nevada before Batman 'escaped' again. They had just made it as the Batjet touched down near Diana.

As the plan was, all Clark was going to do was to keep Bruce occupied while Dick assembled the device. At best, Clark would talk Bruce into _wanting_ to be returned to normal. Unlikely, but possible. In any event, Dick was to let Clark know when he was done and then wait for the prime opportunity to fire the weapon at him while he was in contact with Bruce.

"Simple, right?" Dick asked Diana, forcing some humor into his voice.

"Well…"

Diana's response was interrupted by a heavy thundering and the earth shook beneath their feet. The two shared serious looks of concern, then Dick dove back into his work with a renewed sense of urgency.

"I've got to stop this," Wonder Woman announced as she took off.

"No," Dick caught her arm.

She landed softly, looking for clarification. He explained as he got yet another component out of the crates.

"Superman said that this might happen… he predicted it. That's why he sent you up here. He's going to keep Bruce busy until I finish. You're supposed to help me find a good vantage point so I can…"

There was another titanic rumble and a huge cloud billowed out of the canyon. Diana snapped her worried face towards it, then back at Dick.

"I'm going to need your help if this is going to work," Dick confirmed.

Understanding, Diana nodded.

"What can I do?"

"I think I'm almost done," he told her, picking up the manual and handing it to her. "Turn to the last few pages, it shows how to power this thing up."

She flipped to the final parts of the book and found the correct section. Working together, they ran through the last stages of assembly and the final tests and when it looked like they were ready, they moved out.

By that time, the rumbling had moved several hundred meters down the canyon. Picking Dick up, Wonder Woman flew quickly towards the battleground. They stayed low as to not give away their position and they landed well out of sight of combatants. Carefully, quietly, the made their way towards the cliff edge and peered down at the clashing titans.

Batman had his back towards them and Superman was crumpled in the dust like a discarded pile of laundry.

They ducked back down as to not be seen.

"This is it," he declared.

Diana raised her hand to her ear. "Superman, Wonder Woman. We're on the ledge behind Batman. We're ready."

Together, they stood up and prepared for the inevitable.

"Hera, help us," she prayed quietly.

They watched Superman leap to his feet and fake an attack. Batman responded predictably with a move that gave Dick the huge target.

"NOW, DICK!"

The young hero took careful aim.

"I love you, Dad," he whispered, and he pulled the trigger.

* * *

The four friends found very little to talk about to pass the time. There were few topics of conversation that they could engage in that wouldn't take their minds off what had transpired to put them all in their present situation. They stayed mostly silent in their familiar prison until the humming of the walls stopped. They had just enough time to exchange glances of curiosity before they found themselves teleported back to the Watchtower. 

"What happened?" J'onn was the first to ask Diana when he regained his focus.

"We won," she said with a smile.

* * *


	32. Chapter 32: Answers

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta now! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, if something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 32: Answers 

"The real question is," Lantern began, "how much can we trust him now?"

He took a second to judge the other three faces in the conference room. Shayera turned her chair slowly and crossed her arms. Flash was leaning his elbows on the table, his doubled fists tight in front of his jaw. Diana, sitting regally, her posture and composure perfect, kept her face as neutral as she could, but her eyes drifted down under the weight of the question.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Hawkgirl broke the silence, "but for me, forgiving is going to be hard and forgetting will probably be impossible."

"The guy had a rough time, Shayera," Flash protested. "I think we should give him a little room to see how he recovers. I mean, he isn't even conscious yet and we're in here passing judgment on his motives or whatever? He deserves a better shake than that."

"The man attacked us, Flash," John countered. "He had megalomaniacal issues and a savior complex. He was dangerous to us and the public at large. How many excuses are good enough to…"

He was interrupted by J'onn entering the room. All eyes turned to the Martian for his report.

"I believe there is a very good reason for his behavior."

The room was quiet as J'onn made his way to his seat. They waited somewhat impatiently for him to make himself comfortable and continue. Finally, he spoke.

"As you all know, his physiology was altered dramatically."

"We know, J'onn!" Wally blurted out. "Get to the part with the 'good reason'!"

J'onn's impassive face stared at Wally for a few seconds before he continued.

"Adrenaline."

The others didn't know what to make of the comment.

"Adrenaline?" Green Lantern asked. "What about it?"

"With his altered physiology, Batman's body responded unnaturally to its own adrenaline production."

"Unnaturally how, J'onn?" Diana asked politely.

The others' interest started piquing as well.

"As if it were a drug," J'onn answered. "Not unlike the so-called adrenaline junkies that Flash watches on television, just many times worse. Not only had he become addicted to it, but his body had both physical and psychological reactions to it; namely, in the form of lowered inhibitions."

The others quietly exchanged glances of confusion, concern and a strong need for clarification.

"Its affects were to such a degree," J'onn continued, "as to be comparable to Superman's reaction to red Kryptonite. Batman's erratic behavior stemmed from many of the things that he felt and thought, but under the extreme affects of his own lifestyle, his adrenaline reactions caused his better judgment to become clouded, diluted, if not completely absent."

There was a long, thoughtful pause.

"So, what you're saying is," Shayera asked, sinking her forehead into her hand, "that he's been acting this way because his own body poisoned his own mind."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. It was a very unnatural state for a human body to be in. Now that he has been restored, his mind should no longer be a victim to those reactions."

"You mean," Flash spoke up, "he'll be back to normal?"

"Eventually. I am afraid there will be a period of withdrawal and adjustment, during which he will undoubtedly experience strong feelings of guilt and remorse over his actions. Superman has expressed feeling the same things after recovering from the affects of red Kryptonite. I have also heard other humans describe similar things after nights of heavy alcohol consumption."

Shayera nodded her head in understanding. John and Wally both looked away. Diana saw Wally blush slightly.

"I also anticipate," J'onn added, "that Batman will become very elusive and difficult to deal with... even more so than usual. He tends to hold himself to harsher standards than most humans. He also becomes very reclusive when he makes mistakes. He does not forgive himself easily."

"That's true," Diana admitted, sadly. "We probably won't hear from him for a long, long time – if ever again."

There was another hard-thought pause as the five heroes considered Batman's future within The League… or lack thereof.

"Not to sound selfish," Flash announced, "but I've always been a little on edge around that guy any way. If he wants to take some time off to get his head straight, that's fine by me."

"Actually, Flash," J'onn answered, "he will be staying in the Infirmary for the next few days."

"Are his injuries that serious?" Diana asked, concern clear in her voice.

"No," J'onn revealed. "In fact, the most serious injury he sustained was to his arm. It was exposed to the bulk of the radiation and therefore suffered sever burns. It is the only injury that I have not finished healing. However, while he was unconscious, I was able to… _suggest_ that he stay in bed to meditate. He should be aboard for the next two days or so. I suggest we all talk to him during that time."

"You hypnotized him?!" Shayera accused.

J'onn seemed to flash the slightest of smiles.

"You could say that," he admitted, though it seemed like there was more for him to say.

The others waited.

"When we brought him up after the incident, his mind was unreachable. However, portions of his mind recovered quickly and he became cognizant even though he remained unconscious. Once I was able to stabilize his physical condition, he contacted me mentally."

"_HE_ contacted _YOU?"_ Lantern asked in disbelief.

"Yes," J'onn replied matter-of-factly. "He was concerned about Superman."

* * *

Later… 

Wonder Woman stood alone in the observation room. The large window gave her a view of all that was occurring, although she didn't have the speakers turned on. To her right, J'onn was giving Superman his final examination. To her left was a large white partition, behind which lay Batman, still unconscious, but recovering well. She sighed and crossed her arms as she stared hard to her left, wrestling with the doubt and anticipation battling within her. She wanted so badly for him to wake up so she could talk with him. But then again, she feared the things he might say.

Her peripheral vision caught some commotion and she found herself smiling when she saw Clark sneeze and a chair blew over.

Diana watched through the window as the Martian doctor removed the last of the monitoring devices off of Superman's bare chest. Her friend, his legs hanging over the side of the bed, looked tired, but physically he seemed to be in perfect shape. The burns and injuries he sustained just yesterday were long gone.

J'onn handed him a small piece of wood, which was immediately ignited by the patient's heat vision. The flames were quickly doused by super-cooled breath. Upon command, the hero floated off the bed and gently set back down. Lastly, Clark peered at a small box and spoke a few words, to which J'onn nodded.

When all was said and done, Clark stood up, put on a white robe and headed for the door. Diana met him in the hallway.

"Hi, Diana," he greeted her as casually as anything.

"Did J'onn say that you could leave the infirmary?" she demanded.

"Yeah, he did. In fact..."

"Did he say you're one hundred percent?" she interrupted.

"Well, maybe not _one hundred_ percent, but I will be soon."

"Good," she announced coldly before blasting him with a right cross.

He slammed against the metal wall and held his jaw for a second, his confused face searching hers for an explanation.

"_That's_ for being such a damn pig-headed fool and putting yourself in mortal danger on a whim!" she accused, her strong finger jabbing mercilessly at his chest.

His confusion grew as she berated him. His back slammed against the wall with the last blast from her finger, then she quickly grabbed both sides of his head and pulled him down for a hard, friendly kiss.

"And _that_ is for being the best friend anybody could ever ask for!"

She released him and smiled and shook her head, looking up with wonder and adoration into his face. He was still reeling from the assault and the gratitude and his face was still stuck in a fog.

"C'mon," she commanded politely, taking his arm. "Let's go get some coffee."

"But…" he pulled at the robe he was wearing.

"That can wait."

The two exchanged very little small talk as they walked the short distance down the hall. All the while, Clark had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be ambushed by a series of difficult and accusatory questions. To his surprise, and very much to his relief, they never came. She just walked with him, politely, as if nothing happened the day before.

The doors slid open smoothly and he allowed her to enter first. They found a couple mugs and she poured. It wasn't long before they were comfortable and simply enjoying each other's friendly company.

Then she dropped the question he _knew_ was coming. She tried to make it casual, but…

"Oh, I almost forgot," she began simply. "The others wanted to know more about how you got your powers back."

He let out a huge sigh. He knew it was coming, so it was no surprise. And he had to admit that she had cleverly made the whole situation feel comfortable and unassuming. That still didn't make it very easy.

He took a second to consider and she watched him intently with her steely eyes as she slowly sipped. He seemed bothered but somehow, he found a way to make himself comfortable. Then, somewhat to her surprise, Superman sat up with a far-off look and smiled.

"So _that's_ why they're waiting outside in the hall," he observed.

With that the door slid open and Wally, John and Shayera shamefully stepped in.

"Got your x-ray vision back, huh?" GL asked bashfully.

"And my hearing."

"Ah."

The three pulled chairs around the table and they all watched as Superman considered his answer. Just when it looked like curiosity would make them all burst, he grinned and spilled the beans.

"It comes down to me being a hopeless romantic, really," he admitted, looking down bashfully.

"Huh?!"

The others all looked at him with a serious need for clarification. He took a deep breath and continued.

"I had been waiting for the longest time to let Lois in on my secret identity. All that time, not only had I thought of all the different ways to tell her, but also all the different ways she'd react and so on. And, well, I guess I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy, but… I also had daydreams about the things we'd be able to do as a couple once everything was out in the open."

"Ok, that's sweet and all," Shayera blurted, "but it doesn't explain how you…"

"Let me finish," he recommended, raising his hand slightly.

Shayera nodded, apologetically and sat back in her seat.

"One of the things," Clark continued, "that I've always wanted to do was to whisk someone away on a romantic, tropical adventure. So, I had secretly set up a vacation for Lois and I to go to Acapulco."

He paused for a moment and a shy smile crept up onto his face.

"I was going to propose to her there…"

He paused again for the briefest of moments. Not brief enough for Flash's patience.

"But how did you…"

"In preparation for the trip," Clark continued as Flash wasn't talking, "I had made reservations for flights, hotels, restaurants, the whole nine yards. I had even taken conga lessons. But there was one other thing that I did that resulted in something unexpected… I went tanning."

He paused and looked around the table. John was the first to show signs of understanding.

"It was right after my first tanning session that I noticed that my strength had increased. Only a little… and I mean _a little…_ and it was temporary, but _I was stronger._ I noticed the same thing after my second session, then again after the third. Each time, my strength came back a little more, and it lasted a little longer. None of my other powers returned, but my strength and durability were improving. I guess there's something about the artificial radiation that accelerated my recovery. I just talked to J'onn about it and he admitted that all the calculations for my recovery were made under the assumption that I would be exposed to natural sunlight in normal doses. They had never gotten around to alternative sources of solar radiation. Funny thing is… I never seemed to get any tanner!"

His face was somewhat pleasant as he recalled everything. Then his expression fell and his head sagged. He took in a deep breath and, with great effort, continued on.

"I had even done an extra long session the day before all that… stuff at the Luthorcorp building. I knew that it wouldn't be very much help, but I did anyway - just in case. That's probably why I survived the explosion. I mean, it took its toll on me but…"

Diana recalled his reaction back then, when she asked him how he had survived the blast. He was elusive. He claimed he was behind something when the bomb went off - a weak excuse at best. She just didn't recognize it at the time.

He trailed off and his face drew even more disturbed as he continued. "Aaaand, when it came time to send you all down to Ultra's warehouse…"

He stopped and shook his head and his great fist slammed down on the table.

The others were speechless. It was clear now why he had punished himself so much for that day. Had he been completely powerless, it would have been an easier pill to swallow. But being partially restored, yet still too helpless to matter – that was clearly unbearable for him. He was punishing himself, still.

They waited patiently for him to continue, or for something appropriate to say to pop into their heads. He didn't give them the chance.

"I can't begin to tell you all how sorry I am for my actions that day. I should have been down there with you. I should have…"

He trailed off. Diana reached across the table for his hand. Lantern spoke up.

"Listen, Superman," he started, trying to get the big man's attention. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that your actions that day were spot on."

The others nodded and agreed.

"I, for one," John continued, "wouldn't even _be_ here if you hadn't thought quickly and gotten me up here as fast as you had. Not to mention your efforts in the infirmary…"

Clark looked up into his colleague's green eyes. The Lantern nodded with sincerity.

"You served a better purpose up here," Shayera added, "than you would have down there. You coordinated the effort, you helped with the recovery. All things that _needed_ to be done, and I know that _I_ couldn't have done it as well as you did!"

"That's right," Flash agreed. "But now that you're back, we'll just send you in first next time to plow the road!"

They exchanged forced chuckles before Wonder Woman returned to the topic of conversation.

"So you were able to get your strength back before you talked to Nightwing."

Clark swallowed before answering.

"Not exactly…"

The four faces watching him varied from curious to truly concerned.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" Diana prodded carefully.

"Well… The whole thing happened so quickly. I had an appointment the day before, so yes, _some_ of my strength was back, but…"

"Now, hold on," Lantern commanded strongly, interrupting. "Are you saying that you deliberately went toe-to-toe with a super-powered, mentally unstable Batman while knowing you were in a chronically weakened condition?"

"Not only that," Shayera chimed in, realization building as she spoke, "but he insisted that Nightwing fire that weapon at him as well!"

Jaws dropped and the Kryptonian turned away. Clearly he had come closer to dying than anybody had realized.

"Well," he finally spoke as if he were telling them what he had for lunch. "I figured; if it don't kill you, it only makes you stronger!"

They stared in disbelief at his cavalier attempt at humor.

"KAL!" Wonder Woman all but shouted. "You… you…"

Her head shook and her eyes darted around as if she could physically find something to say, some kind of rebuke to throw at him. He took the opportunity to exercise his modesty.

"It was a gamble, I admit," he answered. "But it seems to have worked. And all's well that ends well."

The four of them sat in varying degrees of introspection. They had come within a hair's breadth of losing Superman… again… permanently.

And he had done it to save his friend.

* * *

Several hours later, in the Monitor Womb… 

"Have you talked to him, yet?" Flash asked Diana.

She didn't respond. She knew which 'him' he meant.

"He's awake, y'know."

No response.

"Well, I just dropped in to say 'hi' to him. He's not very talkative right now, but I kind of expected that."

She didn't look up. Flash straddled a chair, leaning on the backrest. He waited patiently and tried to read her body language. She wasn't very comfortable.

"John and Shayera have both been in there too. In fact, she was the first one to see him after he came 'round."

Still nothing.

"She said that she told him that there were no hard feelings and that she still respected him… that sort of thing. She said that she did most of the talking… well, _all_ of the talking, I guess. All he said back to her was that he was sorry."

That got her attention. Her emotionless eyes looked at the young hero, then drifted back to nothing in particular.

"John and I pretty much had the same conversation with him… we did all the talking and all he said was _'I'm sorry.'"_

The two sat in silence before Flash finally understood that she needed some more time alone on watch. He said his goodbyes and left.

* * *

Bruce Wayne didn't hurt much any more. His arm was still tender, but thanks to J'onn's alien treatments, there would be little scarring from the burns. In any case, he stayed in the infirmary bed, meditating for whatever reason. It just seemed like the right thing to do. 

Parts of his brain were screaming at him to get the hell out of there… that he should seek out the seclusion and security of his home, or the Batcave. He didn't listen.

He just lay there in the bed, the sheets pulled up to the middle of his bare ribcage. His expressionless face stayed locked in one direction, his blue eyes seeing nothing at all.

He had failed.

Through his many years fighting crime, he had been subjected to countless temptations and tortures. He had been abused physically and mentally beyond imagination. He had been drugged and gassed and hypnotized and had spells cast upon him. But never had he broken down as badly as his own body had made him these past few months. He had nobody to blame but himself.

J'onn had tried to tell him that it was because of the changes in his body. He had helped Bruce understand the mechanics of his condition, but it did very little to alleviate the fact that Bruce had _chosen_ his own actions. In his mind, it was no different than another kind of drug out of Scarecrow's arsenal, or Grodd's mind control. He refused to believe that his condition _controlled _his mind and his body completely, because in reality it didn't; all his thoughts stemmed from something deep down that he believed at one level or another. And although he knew that he acted upon those thoughts and he could maybe someday get over the fact and accept his condition as partially playing a role, he couldn't forgive himself for harboring the seeds that bore the evil within him.

He could have destroyed the world.

He could have killed the greatest heroes he had ever known.

He could have killed _her._

"I knew," he mentally confessed to J'onn before he found his way back to consciousness, "at a certain level that the things I was saying and doing were wrong. But I always seemed to find a way to justify it."

"It wasn't you," J'onn corrected, "you were under the influence of a drug."

Logically, he knew J'onn was right. And had it been a drug that he had been _exposed to_, then maybe he would have found it easier to forgiven himself. But it was a drug his own body made and he grew addicted to it… addicted to the strength and the action and the excitement… addicted to the rush he got when running at blinding speed… addicted to the sensation he felt when he thought of her.

He had trained himself many, many years ago to recognize symptoms like that. He had worked with Alfred and Dick to devise ways to recognize the tell-tale signs in each other and deal with them appropriately. He had missed those signs, or if he saw them, he paid them no mind... either way, it was another failing. He didn't recognize the trouble he was in and when something seemed to raise a red flag in his mind, he found some way to twist his own logic and continue on his course of destruction. And he didn't listen when others tried to help. All instances of his failure.

And he had enjoyed it. That was probably the worst feeling of all.

He had enjoyed the euphoria he felt when he believed that his mission had a bigger meaning. He reveled in the concept of bringing peace to the world. He congratulated himself on his hard work and his determination and his devotion. He had fallen for the easy trap that his power had made for him; that might makes right. And he had further fooled himself with the double-edged sword of thinking he was in the right in any case.

'_The road to hell is paved with good intentions,'_ he chided himself as he lay alone in the dark.

Part of his brain screamed again to get out of there. He craved the isolation and the comfort of his own surroundings. He craved the darkness. He couldn't find a single logical reason to stay in his bed one minute longer… but he did. Eventually, a spark of a thought occurred to him.

Could he be scared?

Could he be afraid to be alone now? Was he ready for it? Was his body completely restored to normal? He had no idea. Looking back, all his rogue actions seemed to get worse when he was alone. His isolation afforded his bastardized conscious time to justify his actions. His twisted logic won when he was alone. Maybe he was afraid to be alone, now, because he didn't want his mind to go there any more.

J'onn had talked to him. Predictably and thankfully, he harbored no ill-will and was more than comforting. He patiently worked Bruce's mind through the gamut of guilt and the overriding feeling that he didn't deserve to be forgiven. But forgiven he was.

Shayera came in not long after he woke up. To her credit, she didn't mention anything about what had happened, but kept her questions simple. She just asked how he was feeling. He noticed that she didn't have her mace with her.

He didn't look at her, he didn't speak. He remembered, vividly, the rage that she brought out in him. And he couldn't get his mind around how she could casually sit on the edge of his bed and talk as if they had a simple disagreement, not a ferocious battle. Tactfully, she was able to eventually bring it up, but she didn't mention any resentment directly. In fact, she jokingly gave him credit for his kicking technique.

He had interrupted her when he told her he was sorry. He didn't look at her and she didn't speak after that. She simply stared at his profile for a tough second, nodded and walked out.

Stewart was much more clinical. He talked matter-of-factly about wanting to complete some reports and when Batman could be returned to the roster. His whole attitude was to approach things as if a team member had been out of commission and was finally recovering. Like Shayera before him, he eventually wound his words to the personal. He told Batman not to worry about the damaged Green Lantern ring, as he not only had a spare, but knew of ways to fix the broken one. Upon Batman's apology, he told him that there was nothing to be sorry for and if he felt that there was more to discuss, they could do it later, when he was up and about. John left telling him to get better soon, they needed him.

Flash was a much more welcome visitor than Bruce would have thought. Young and energetic, as expected, he blasted into the room with his trademark grin. Bruce tried to get upset, but couldn't. He had fresh memories of slamming a foot into that face, and to see it smile at him was unexpectedly refreshing.

He brought several books with crosswords and word searches and Sudoku puzzles. He brought in a half dozen DVD's. He brought in an iced mocha and left it conveniently on the side table. And eventually, like the two before him, Flash settled down and talked about the real topic at hand. Only he didn't mention the day before.

"It's good to have you back," he said sincerely. "We need you around here… probably more than you realize."

That was the only time that Bruce turned his head to look at a visitor. And Wally just stared right back at him. Pleasantly, warmly. Like a friend.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, still watching the young man.

"Nah," Flash scoffed, "You got nothing to be sorry for… unless you count the shaving cream in the slippers bit! And I _will_ get you back for that!"

Bruce almost let a smile slip, but instead simply gave a small nod. After that, Flash assured him that somebody would be around to tend his needs, then he zipped off.

* * *

Bruce sat, contemplating his next move. He had shifted the bed to sit more upright and had actually taken to slurping the iced mocha sweating on the table. He eyed the DVD's and wondered what had possessed Flash to think that "Pride and Prejudice" would be appropriate. Instead, he reached for one of the puzzle books and was looking about for a pen when the doors slid open one more time. 

"I heard you were awake," Clark said happily. "Just thought I'd come in and see how you're doing."

Bruce's jaw clenched.

In the past, the Boy Scout's happy attitude had been annoying. How he could naturally walk around, smiling and friendly to people, being honest and open, polite… that was something Bruce had a hard time fathoming – even in normal situations. Now, with all that had been said and all that had happened, it felt like a knife in his chest.

Of all the people he had wronged over the past few weeks, Clark was the unnecessary recipient of the worst he dished out. He had belittled him. He had chastised him. He had tried to connive him into quitting the League. He had jilted him by abandoning his research. He had fooled himself into believing that Superman was a farce and not a hero. And when they fought, there was a shameful point where he not only wanted to beat him mercilessly, but if the great man actually died, Bruce honestly didn't care.

In short, he had unforgivably wronged his friend.

He had more than enough time, lying in his bed, to contemplate all that had happened. There were still some unknowns, but his keen mind was able to quickly deduce that Superman had taken an awful risk with his plans. And ponder as he did, Bruce still couldn't seem to understand that Clark had put himself in unbelievable danger _for him._ After all, the world needs Superman much more than it needs Batman.

Now he was standing in the doorway in his clean bright blue and red suit. Smiling. Bruce had never felt so undeserving or insignificant in his life.

"…_Superman needs _you,_ Bruce…"_ Diana's words came back to him.

"I, uh…" Clark started, pulling a chair over and sitting down. "I also wanted to thank you."

Bruce's head snapped to, but he didn't speak.

"Yeah," Clark continued uneasily, "for helping me… well, for _making_ me, really… uh, go through with telling Lois about my secret identity. I had thought about it and thought about it, but I still wasn't sure. But when you said that it was a good idea, well, I knew then that it was the right thing to do."

Just when Bruce thought he couldn't feel any guiltier… He slowly turned his head and looked off at a point a million miles away. Still, he kept quiet.

The seconds ticked on and Clark's goofy grin finally slipped away. His massive frame heaved with a sigh.

"Ok, look," Superman said with strength in his voice. "I know you've got problems with me… with who I am and the way I do things. To be honest, you've done a lot of things that I don't agree with either."

He stood up and slowly walked the floor as he continued.

"But that's never stopped us from working together before. And as far as I'm concerned, that shouldn't stop us from working together now."

"It's just that simple?" Bruce finally spoke, although he didn't look at him. It sounded like a statement more than a question.

"If we let it be, then yeah, it's just that simple."

Bruce's head shook slightly. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then he finally turned to face him.

"You should _hate_ me. You should be _furious_ and you should be demanding my head on a pike! What the hell would it take to piss you off?"

It was an accusation. It was an attack on Clark's character. True, it had been an offensive that was borne out of insecurity, but he was still calling the other man out. And Clark recognized it as such. He took a moment to formulate a response. Bruce still hadn't figured out what friends were for…

"I was pissed," he admitted, "I still am a little, but not so much at you, but at myself."

"Jee-Zuss, Clark! Why do you have be such a…"

"I'm mad at myself," Superman interrupted strongly, "because a lot of what you said was true."

Bruce shut up.

"You were right… in a lot of ways, I have been a coward. I've always justified not taking actions because I didn't want to intrude into certain situations or step over some invisible boundaries I've made for myself. But in reality, I've been avoiding responsibility. Maybe I should be a little more assertive. Maybe as a whole, the Justice League should be a little more proactive."

Bruce shifted in his bed. His impulsive urge to seek the darkness of the Batcave wasn't so strong any more.

"I know what you went through, Bruce. Believe it or not, I do. I've struggled with the temptation to intervene or take action when I shouldn't have. And I've spent a lot of time contemplating my actions and my responsibilities."

Clark turned to face him and continued.

"But let me tell you something… I'm more afraid of red Kryptonite than I am of anything else. I _know_ the green stuff will kill me. I don't want to die, but I'm not afraid to and I know that's what it will do. But with red… I'm afraid of what I will do under its influence. I'm afraid that I'll do something utterly and completely horrific and I'll have to live with the guilt of it for the rest of my life. That really scares the shit out of me."

Bruce's face showed that he understood. He continued to listen a little more attentively.

"I know the rush you felt. I know the feeling of freedom that you felt when the weight of responsibility was lifted. I've been there. It brings out what's deep inside of you, what you're keeping locked away. In a way, it's kind of liberating, because it gives you a glimpse of what you're made of."

Clark took a step closer to the bed and looked hard into his eyes, but he turned away.

"But you and I _are different._ When I'm affected by red Kryptonite, I start doing things for myself… selfish things… foolish things. But you… you were basically affected the same way – if not worse, and what did you do? You tried to save the world! You didn't run around, having a good time, trying to pack as much fun into a day as you could, no. You went out and did the most selfless thing imaginable. You didn't think about yourself, you put everybody else on the planet first."

Bruce looked down at his hands, feeling uncomfortable. It was as if Clark was praising him.

"Deep down, I'm a selfish person, Bruce. But my better judgment helps me hide that and do the right thing. But you… deep down, you're a hero. You put everybody else first – always. Your better judgment simply helps you choose the right way to do it."

Bruce finally found the strength to look at him.

"And that's why," Clark summed up, "you will always have my admiration and you'll always be my friend. That's why you're a hero to me."

* * *

**AN: So there you go... a few answers to some of the questions you may have had. There are a few more things to be said and then this ride will be over... sort of. ;)**

**As always, thank you so much for your patience and your consideration. All of your reviews and personal messages, praising, noting and flaming this story are very much appreciated. I have the story in my head already... if that was all I wanted, I wouldn't take the time (and my BETA's time) to post all this stuff! I write for YOU!**

**To the reviews that I couldn't respond to:**

**To BKK: It was hard to write Batman as, basically, a bad guy. So I can understand what you mean when you say that you 'hated' the battle between him and Supes. I hated having to write it! I hope that Chapter 32 answers some of your questions. If not, there's always Chapter 33 (coming very soon) and you can always send me a message if something isn't clear. THANKS!**

**To brucefan: Batman quit? Well, so far, he hasn't made any decisions, has he? That particular answer comes next chapter. Thanks for posting the review!**

**To princess: You are far too kind! AND, you are absolutely right in your observation; Batman is (was) the one that was out of control. How hard will it be for him to get over it? Will he? Ask yourself... would you? As far as a JL movie - wouldn't that be great?! But, given as much as I love the characters, it would have to be the most awesomest movie of all time, ever, bar none, period. Anything less would be unacceptable! Thanks!**


	33. Chapter 33: Renaissance

The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, but I DO have a beta! Thanks KN – You're AWESOME! However, if something is wrong, I take FULL responsibility and I ask that you forgive me. It's all AU…

* * *

Chapter 33: Renaissance 

"Well," Dick wrapped up, "You know where I live. I've let Blüdhaven slip a little, so I'm going to have to make up for lost time, but if you need a hand…"

"I'll give you a call," Bruce finished for him courteously, nodding.

Standing in the Batcave, in plain clothes, the two men eyed each other fondly. Neither man smiled, but there was an unmistakable amount of contentment on each face… until Bruce's expression grew stone-like.

"Don't hold your breath," Bruce added, his voice dropping down to Batman tones for effect.

Dick's face finally cracked and he huffed out a laugh. He turned and headed back up to the Manor and home to his fiancé.

There was very little for the two to say to each other. There were no teary-eyed confessions. There was no yelling. Just a little small talk, then Bruce simply told him that, during all that had happened, Dick had done well. Dick responded that he was glad to see the real Batman 'back in action.' And that was that.

To anybody else it was a cold, cynical exchange. However, to the two men, it was as deep a conversation as any they'd had in just over four years. That, in and of itself, was significant.

Bruce watched him leave, a feeling of vindication seeping over him. Despite all that had defined his life for the past decade, he must have done something right, because one of the finest young men he had ever met was leaving his house and he was honored to call him 'son.'

Turning to look about the Batcave, and the remains of the destroyed Batmobile, Bruce gave half a heartbeat's worth of time to wish he had his powers back for about two minutes. Then he shook his head and made his way over to the wreckage.

He had built it before and it served its purpose well. Now he could do it again and incorporate many of the new improvements that he had been considering. He sat down at the massive computers and typed a few commands. Within seconds, the blueprints and schematics of the original design flashed up on the array of monitors. He had work to do.

His short time recovering aboard the Watchtower had proved to be much more spiritual than he would have liked to admit. Nobody blamed him for the things that had gone on, although a big part of him wished they would, because he continued to blame himself. They still respected him, even though he didn't feel worthy. They even seemed to trust him and he couldn't understand why. After Clark's visit, he had ample time alone to contemplate what it all meant. Physically, his wounds were healed very quickly, thanks mostly to J'onn and his unparalleled knowledge and alien techniques. Mentally, however, he had a lot of recovery left. The others made it clear that it would be up to him, but he still had trouble believing or understanding their position. How could they endure what he put them all through and not have any resentment? He couldn't fathom how there were no strings.

So, in typical Batman style, he resolved to earn their trust all over again… if not by their standards, then by his own. He would get his world and Gotham back to the way it should be. He would rebuild himself the way he knew how and he would make sure that his lessons were learned well. Only then would he be comfortable serving his role once again within their folds.

The Batmobile gave him a physical project to dive into. Like timeless Japanese masters working their bonsai, he would key in on every detail, ensuring the perfection of his designs and the vehicle's construction. He could lose himself in the project and clear his mind of all else. This, along with meditation and other techniques he had perfected, would get him back to where he needed to be. It would be a long, hard journey, but he had done it before.

His fingers pummeled the keyboards as he started some calculations, but before he got too far, the automatic notification of the Manor entrance caught his attention. A second later, he heard careful footsteps coming down the stairs. He jumped out of his chair and walked quickly to the base in anticipation.

"Alfred?"

"No," she said, "it's me."

And Wonder Woman rounded the corner into view.

"Dick let me in," she told him almost apologetically.

She was dressed casually; jeans, a light blue tank top and a white sweater with a loose belt tied at the waste. Her hair was up in a pony tail. All in all, she looked comfortable, although she was walking like each step could shatter the earth.

Even in her simple attire, she never looked better to him. He had missed her – more than he wanted to admit. But he didn't want her here… not now.

He had taken deliberate steps in an effort to ensure his isolation. He had tried as best he knew how to acknowledge the important people in his life, the others in the League… to make sure that they understood that he knew he wronged them and would make amends, but only in due time. He needed to become Batman again. He knew that he needed to be alone to steel himself with the darkness and the coldness and the solitude. She robbed him of those things.

And even though he wouldn't admit it, it would be a stressful journey. He couldn't have distractions, no matter how sweet they smelled. And the vision of her descending the stairs like an angel into his night gave him a feeling of warmth and happiness that he didn't know he longed for. He almost welcomed it, but then he reminded himself that he had no business thinking anything about her ever again.

"Princess," he tried to say coldly, but it didn't come out as harshly as he wanted.

"Hello, Bruce," she replied cautiously. "I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced."

How could he answer that?

She didn't say a word to him on the Watchtower. He hadn't even seen her since he almost punched her square in the nose in the Nevada desert.

He had come to an understanding of sorts with each of the others. The air still wasn't completely clear and it would probably take weeks, if not months before he found the strength to consider himself worthy to be part of The Justice League again. But even so, the others had taken the effort to make sure that he knew they would welcome him back on his own terms.

She had made no such concession.

True, he could have sought her out, perhaps he even _should_ have. After all, he was the one that wronged her. He should be the one to ask her forgiveness.

But he didn't. Because, maybe… just maybe she might actually forgive him. He had a hard enough time dealing with the others' loyalty, but her's… That was something he wasn't prepared to handle yet. He wasn't even sure that he could get it back to the way it was, or even if he wanted to. Foreign feelings and situations wouldn't help his life right now.

In his mind, he didn't deserve to be considered a hero any more. He didn't deserve to be welcomed back into The Justice League. He didn't deserve their loyalty. He didn't deserve Dick's admiration. He didn't deserve Clark's praise. And he _damn sure_ didn't deserve her affection.

And if she was prepared to give it to him… he had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

She gracefully strode down the stairs, her light steps working cautiously towards him.

He watched her in half a daze. For the second time in so many minutes, he wished for half a heartbeat that he had the powers he had before, so he could drop his inhibitions and take her into his arms. But now, with a more clearly-thinking brain, he knew that, despite how he may feel, it could never be that way again.

Ever.

So he turned his back on her and returned to his chair.

With that reaction now in the books, she continued on, her steps a little more comfortable, as if she had expected him to do that.

"I… didn't get the chance to see you before you left the Watchtower yesterday. Well, actually, that's not true. I… I have to admit, Bruce… I avoided you on purpose. I was waiting to see you _here._"

Her confession didn't seem to sway him; he didn't look at her, but kept his attention on the huge computer monitor as he typed.

"I was hoping," she continued, "that you and I might get a chance to talk about a few things."

"I'm busy."

"Oh, well, that's ok," she said with forced politeness. Then her voice took on a very serious tone. "I'll wait."

His fingers stopped. He steeled himself for whatever was to come next. The final pangs of realization hit him; this conversation was inevitable and he was fooling himself if he thought he could avoid it. Now the only thing left to do was to get it over with and get her the hell out.

Otherwise he might never let her leave.

"What's on your mind?" he asked clinically as he turned his chair, longing for the cold eye lenses of his cowl.

She found her own seat and, looking into space for the right words to say, she took a deep breath and donned a pleasant expression.

"You… are on my mind."

She leveled her eyes directly at his.

For a moment, he melted. His confidence clearly wasn't what he needed it to be. She was in the driver's seat because they both knew that she had done absolutely nothing wrong in the past few months and he had done very little right. He cursed himself for his weakness and his lack of preparation. He needed his control back, so in a classic defensive move, he jumped to the professional angle.

"I gave J'onn and Lantern a full report," he stated plainly, turning back towards his computers.

"I know. I've read it," she replied just as plainly.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but held fast. He quickly contemplated all the ways to keep it clinical, keep it safe. He was having a hard enough time getting comfortable in his own skin again, the thought of touching hers would do very little to help at the moment.

"Then I have nothing more to add," he tried.

"Good," she replied quickly, "Because I have nothing more to ask about that. And now that we've gotten _that_ out of the way, let's move on to the next topic at hand; us."

Her business-like approach only taunted him more. He knew damn well why she had come. And in retrospect, it was only logical that she wait until they could be alone in the Batcave to have this conversation. Nobody else was around, nor could they 'accidentally' intrude. He cursed himself again for not predicting her cleverness. In reality he had almost convinced himself that she avoided him because she wanted it to end - part of him begged for that to be the truth. It would save him the trouble of ending it himself.

But, no. She was just biding her time and her presence confirmed that. He had never before felt so cornered in his own cave.

And he had to admit, that he actually thought very hard about making it work. He considered every angle he could conjure to see if their relationship was real or just another one of those things that he shouldn't have done. When he considered what he had felt in his gut since the day she magically appeared in his life, he considered that bringing his feelings out into the open and allowing her into his world might have been a good mistake. Then he had to remind himself that the entire relationship that they had was enjoyed while he was in a deranged state. It was the only argument he could make.

"Diana," he started softly, "I can't do this."

He turned enough to see her head raise a little and take in a breath through her fine nose.

"What we had was a lie," he lied.

"A lie?" she asked as if the word were foreign to her.

"My judgment was impaired," he tried to explain. There was so much more to say than that, but he didn't.

"I see," she replied slowly, her eyes drifting down. "So, your affection for me was due to a lapse in judgment…"

He didn't reply, but turned in his chair and tried to continue typing. It seemed to embolden her.

"If that's what you want to believe," she continued analytically, "then that is your choice. But I wonder if you'll have such an easy explanation for why _I_ fell in love with _you."_

He stopped cold. His head wanted to turn to look at her, but his need for control won and he turned away further. He cleared his throat before he answered.

"It wasn't me you fell in love with. It was someone else."

She seemed to have expected that answer because she shot right back at him.

"No, it was you I had started to fall for _before_ the Achilles Device. It was only that someone else that gave me the chance to say it out loud."

He turned away from her completely so she couldn't see him close his eyes.

"And by the way, it was also that someone else that made me fight that much harder to get the _real_ you back!"

He recalled what she had said in the canyon; _'…the Bruce Wayne I fell in love with!'_

The pause was unbearable.

"Say something, Bruce! Tell me that my love for you means nothing. Because you can _say_ that you don't feel what I do, but you sure as hell can't tell me that what I feel isn't real! Should I go on? No, maybe I should just give you the pummeling you think you deserve. After all, you've been beating yourself up inside, maybe if somebody gives you the physical bruises to match, you'll find a way to get over it!"

His fists clenched. His mouth twisted with the internal struggle he was forcing himself through.

He didn't deserve her! He wasn't supposed to have somebody like her in his life. He needed the pain and the darkness and she destroyed all that. He needed to be cold and rigid. He needed to be unfeeling and strict and she made him happy.

But he had also discovered something these past few months. He _could_ stay on path with her around. His mission didn't become any less important and she would never try to change him. In fact, she was very loyal in trying to help him maintain his life. He was able to go out on patrol just hours after drowning in her affection. Maybe his memory of the harmony they shared was so rosy because of his condition…

Maybe.

He must have thought about it for too long, because she tried again.

"I mean it, Bruce. I'm going to make it very easy for you. No matter what you choose... If you say that it's over, fine. But if you're willing to give this another shot, then so am I."

There it was; a perfect opportunity with all the power resting with him to control his life. No strings, no hard feelings.

He knew what he had to do.

Turning his chair, he stood up tall, as did she. He locked onto her magnificent blue eyes. He took a cleansing breath and made himself relax. All he had to do was make the choice – after that, it should be easy.

"Alright, then," he heard himself say. "It's over."

* * *

His fists pummeled the heavy bag mercilessly. His kicks were crisp and swift. The sweat dripped off his face and his shirt was drenched. The training arena echoed with his strikes and he swung harder and harder. But no matter how much punishment he dished out, that feeling refused to leave. 

The feeling that he had made a mistake.

'_No, it wasn't a mistake,' _Batman's voice echoed in his mind. _'You'll get over it.'_

He spun and slammed the back of his fist against the canvas. The bag jolted on the chains and swung lazily.

Again and again, every combination he knew and a few more he made up, he assaulted the unassuming bag. His arms hurt, his knuckles were raw. His vision was blurred by sweat and exhaustion.

It was an ancient routine for him. Every time his heart began to ache, he would drive himself endlessly, until he collapsed from his efforts. With his body broken down, his mind wasn't long to follow. And once the mind was broken down, it could be rebuilt the right way. The same technique used in military boot camps all over the world.

And so he drove himself, physically, in order to reprogram himself mentally. It had taken well over an hour, but he was finally in the throes of reaching his limit. He would take a well-earned shower and retire to the heavenly softness of his bed. By the time he woke up, he'd be cleansed of all the confusion and sorrow and he could get on with his life.

Screaming out his last ounce of rage, he swung his leg and blasted the bag a final time. The cavern echoed with the smack and he turned and headed towards the door, grabbing the bottle of water and the towel he left lying on the bench. His eyes grew heavy and his posture showed his fatigue. His mind was ready for fixing. The door slid open easily…

And there she was, dressed in a white ribbed tank top and royal blue spandex shorts – the very same outfit she was wearing on that passionate day not so long ago.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his heavy breathing stuck in his chest.

"You through?" she asked.

He didn't answer. She waited. She had been waiting for a long time, in fact.

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought that would be evident," she spat back at him condescendingly.

He pushed past her and headed for the stairs up to his home.

"I fought for you the other day," she explained, close on his heels, "I'm going to fight for you now."

"There's nothing to fight for," he tried as his weak legs climbed the cold steps.

"There is for me," she corrected. "I'm fighting to win back the man I love."

His pace hitched for a second, but he didn't stop, nor did he look at her as he walked. Somehow he found his strength again by the time they walked through the secret door into his study.

"I'm not a prize," he said flatly.

"That's debatable," she replied lightly. "But in any event… I _am_ going to get you back."

He stopped abruptly and spun around. She practically ran into him.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded sternly. "I told you that I don't want this."

"I'm not convinced," she replied with a warm smirk.

He turned on his heel and stormed out into the hall.

"It won't work. _WE_ won't work."

"I beg to differ. In fact, I think _WE_ work rather well," she confided warmly. He could hear her smile in her voice.

She lifted into the air and floated around to face him. Drifting backwards as he marched on, she kept her gaze square on his. Her arms were crossed defiantly and there was an unmistakable air of confidence in her grin.

"You're in my way," he insisted.

"No, I'm not," she smiled. To prove her point, she swooped two circles around him, all the while allowing him to continue his stubborn pace. "See? You can stay on course and I can stay with you... and _not_ get in your way."

He grew irritated at how difficult she was becoming, although he had to admit that her allusion to him staying 'on course' with her around was very true on all levels. He hated when the truth stubbornly contradicted his logic.

"I don't want this!" he tried again, crossing the marble foyer.

"You already said that," she reminded him cheekily. "And I still don't believe you."

He opened the huge oak doors and waited for her to leave. She landed directly in front of him and laced her fingers behind her back, looking pleasantly up at him, daring him try some more.

"Diana," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster, "enough. I think you should leave and I think we should forget about ever having a relationship again."

Her expression grew more serious.

"I'll make you a deal," she said once again in a business-like tone.

"No, no deals, just leave."

"_I'll make you a deal," _she said more forcefully. "You give me thirty seconds and if you can honestly say that you don't need me, then I'll let you go."

He considered all the things she could do or say in thirty seconds to persuade him. And as tired as he was, as physically exhausted as he had made himself, he knew that he could withstand half a minute of romantic assault and finally get back to the way he was safest.

But had she asked for a full minute, he probably wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Alright, you have thirty seconds," he agreed and prepared for all the words and caressing and kissing and whatever else she was sure to try.

But she didn't try any of that. She simply grabbed his arm roughly and took off. Together, they flew up into the night sky, higher and higher, straight up. After thirty seconds, she stopped and looked down at him dangling below her.

"Very clever," he said dryly.

"Now, do you need me, or should I let you go?"

"Diana…"

"Answer the question, Bruce," she commanded like a grade school teacher.

He took a sigh.

"Can you _fly_ Bruce?"

His face tightened and he called her bluff.

"Ok," he announced. "I _don't_ need you. Let me go."

"Now what kind of girlfriend would I be if I let you go, knowing full well that it would hurt you?"

She was stating her case solidly, both figuratively and literally. Brick by brick, she was systematically deconstructing his walls.

"But you said…"

"I _said…_ that I was going to _fight_ for you."

"You're not fighting, you're lying."

"So are you!" she chided with a smirk and slowly started sinking back to earth. "If you fight with lies, then I'll counter in kind."

He was quiet the whole trip down. When they finally landed, they stood facing each other, arms crossed. His face was as dark as the night around them, hers as bright as the moonlight on his back.

"It's over, Diana," he said slowly. "It should have never started in the first place."

"And it's easier to stay out than to get out," she said for him, knowing that it was one of his favorite sayings.

"Yes."

"But we _did_ start this relationship, Bruce. You can say that it was somebody else and you have a point. _My _point is that it started long before you kissed me in the Batcave. Up until then, it was all just flirting, but _it was there._ You know it and I know it."

"But we didn't _act,"_ he countered. "No matter how strong our feelings were, we didn't _act on them!"_

"So you admit that you had feelings for me!"

She had caught him. He closed his eyes in frustration of his own mental slip. His exhaustion was definitely taking its toll on him mentally.

"No! I was just saying…"

"Don't make me get my lasso," she warned playfully. "Now, tell the truth… do you love me?"

"No," he answered quickly. Very, very quickly.

"Liar."

He huffed out a breath through his nose, staring into her eyes. They shown in the moonlight and he could see by her expression that she wasn't afraid. She wasn't hurt. She wasn't serious. No, she was toying with him. She was confident. She was playful. Smiling. And he found it very, very hard to keep lying to her.

"Alright, I admit it. I have feelings for you. But that still isn't going to change the fact that a relationship is a bad idea."

"Well, that's a step," she said with a rather cocky air. "Now that we've got that out in the open, we can work on your commitment issues."

"Diana!" he pleaded. "This _cannot_ work!"

He brought his hands up with the desperation of his argument.

"Then why are you still standing out here?" she asked plainly. "You're not more than ten meters from your house. You could have gone back inside any time, but still, here you are, trying to convince me that I don't make you happy. Me thinks he doth protest too much!"

His head turned slightly to realize that she was right. His heels were at the top of the shadow that the moon cast of his home and the soft glow of the chandelier in the foyer shown on the ground behind him in a neat rectangle.

"I know all your _logical_ arguments, Bruce. And believe me, I know a thing or two about logic and philosophy! But _I love you_. I'm not afraid to admit that any more. And I know that you love me, too, regardless of what try to say. And logic doesn't count when it comes to love, Bruce. You know that."

He found himself at a rare loss for words. His mind screamed at him to stop her, to send her away and get back to his gloomy reality. But despite his physical exhaustion, his heart thundered in his chest.

She was _fighting_ for him. She was fighting for _him._ Not his bank account, not the mystique of the costume. It wasn't some dark, twisted connection that they shared on the rooftops of Gotham at night and it wasn't pure physical lust. It wasn't a _part_ of him. It was him, plain, pure and simple. She saw who he was without his masks. She saw the man that he wanted to be, the man he liked being when she was around… the man he _would_ be if the need for Batman suddenly and miraculously disappeared tomorrow.

And with all that was in his life, she accepted all his terms. She allowed him to keep his darkness, because she knew that he needed it. She allowed him to dupe the public because she understood how his world worked. She didn't try to make him drop any pretenses. She didn't try to change him. And she wouldn't get in his way. She simply loved all of him.

He closed his tired eyes.

His mouth opened as if he had something else to say, but words never came. He had no more logic to throw at her. He had no excuses. He had no reasons. And standing in the moonlit night, she looked like his own, personal angel sent to make sure that he knew he was doing something right in his life.

She took a step closer to him and he let her.

"Our lives are dangerous, we both know that. And nobody can predict what's going to happen tomorrow. I don't know how much time we have together, Bruce. But I promise you, I'm going to fight to make you happy for _every moment of it."_

The sudden change in his expression was unmistakable. He recalled Alfred's words and the story about his father. Despite the cool night breeze on his sweat-soaked shirt, he suddenly felt warm.

"All you have to do," she cooed softly, "is say 'yes'."

With that she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. She inched her face closer and closer to his and he let her. He breathed in her scent and the warmth of her hands made him shiver involuntarily. She leaned in to just a whisper away and closed her eyes.

And just before her sweet lips tenderly touched his, he found the strength to take the control that she offered him.

"Yes," he whispered.

* * *

Many hours later… 

Diana poked her fork in the juiciest piece of pineapple and held it out for Bruce. The two sat on stools at the counter in his kitchen in ridiculously comfortable robes and playfully fed fresh fruits and fine cheeses to each other as the first rays of sun peeked up in the east.

He leaned in for the bite and she playfully pulled it back at the last second. He poorly hid his smirk and tried to slam her with a patented bat-glare, but he couldn't hold it. She tapped him on the nose with the pineapple, then allowed him to bite it off the fork. As he chewed, she sensuously leaned in and licked the juice off the tip of his nose.

"Y'know," he started, still chewing on the side of his mouth. "Earlier you said that this started 'long before I kissed you in the Batcave.'"

"Mmm Hmmm," she smiled, finding grape for him next. She seemed to know where this was going.

"As I recall," he continued, her lifting the fork up for his offer, "it was _you _that kissed _me."_

"_Oh, really?"_ she laughed.

"Yeah, really," he laughed back.

"Are you complaining?"

"Well, no…"

"Good," she interrupted. "Because I plan to do a lot more of it."

He couldn't fight the goofy grin brewing on his face as he bit the grape off the fork.

"Among other things," she added as she leaned in for a soft kiss.

He let her and he let her do all the other things as well. And the two enjoyed each others company and affections for many, many hours afterward. All the while he couldn't get over the foreign feelings in his gut. At first, he felt like it would all come crashing down soon but it was only hard to convince himself otherwise the first time. After that, he simply felt the warmth and comfort of knowing that his life would be better now.

He was able to reason that it didn't matter what happened the next day. Actions have consequence, he had always known that and he had always taken responsibility for his. He knew that most things in life required careful consideration and cool calculation. But with love, the first and only _real love_ he had ever known, the future be damned. He knew that he would fight for it and make it work and enjoy every minute of it.

He was on patrol the next night. Thankfully, it was relatively slow and it afforded him time to ease back into Batman's true role as it should be. She wasn't out of his thoughts often or for long, yet he was still able to function perfectly.

And he was able to contemplate other futures of his life. It seems that he might be able to rekindle a healthy relationship with Dick some day. J'onn, Shayera, John… they were all there for him, all _friends_ for him. Flash had virtually been the glue that held the League together. Batman wondered what the youngster would do to 'get back at him' for the shaving cream incident.

And then there was Clark.

He had always harbored a fondness for his simple, rural belief system. He had always marveled at how modest and friendly Clark could be, yet how dynamic and powerful Superman could be. He knew, now, with the wisdom of his latest experiences that Clark Kent was no coward and Superman was a true leader – even to the point of allowing people to make their own mistakes. They would surely butt heads again and again, but with a deeper understanding of each other as they did. And when Superman would lead, Batman would be there to back him up. Always.

He had that much more respect for them all, now. Their powers weren't easily wielded and yet, their individual characters allowed them to choose the right thing. They each served as amazing heroes on their own, but collected, The Justice League was unstoppable. He'd still do his best to keep them in line, after all, that's what Batman does. His firm hand would be just as firm, but his judgment would come with deeper understanding.

He would always fight for Gotham, first and foremost. He would still use the night and the shadows as his tools and his personal brand of justice would leave its mark. But his own world now had a ray of light in it. He had something of value in his life outside of the cowl and cape, somebody to enjoy his city with after all was said and done. His duality was that much more fulfilling, because, during the day, he looked forward to each patrol, and during patrol he looked forward to coming home to her.

He didn't know how long it would last – any of it; Batman, The Justice League or his life with his new love. But he knew that he would fight to make Gotham safe while he was there. He would ensure the world could count on the seven heroes watching over them. And however long he had with her, he would make sure that Diana was happy for every moment of it.

* * *

**AN: That's the story, folks... but it ain't exactly over yet! Like Frodo said; there's room for a little more. Be sure to read the final chapter coming SOON!**

**AN: I would like to drop one final and grand thank you to Kipling-Nori for her absolutely amazing job she did of Beta-reading this story for me. I couldn't have done it without her. Not only did she spot my countless mistakes, she was a tremendous help by offering suggestions and feedback that, I feel, made the story that much better. Here's to you, babe!**

**AN: I would like to send one last thanks to all of you that have read this story, put up with my long-winded style, suffered through my pangs of writer's block and overlooked all my writing flubs and plot holes. As I've said many times before, I write for YOU, the reader. All I wanted to do was to tell a story that I've had brewing in the back of my stupid little head, and I hope that you enjoyed it.**

**AN: And finally, to all of you that took the time to type out all those reviews and personal messages/emails. It was your feedback that spurred me on. I can't believe this has taken over a YEAR to write and I seriously doubt I would have found the motivation to finish had I not gotten all that feedback. Thanks for helping me finish what I started! And thanks for your thoughtfulness; your kind words of praise, your helpful suggestions and your useful critiqus - all of it.**

**To Shadowkyzer:  
Thank you for your review. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter & I hope you like the final chapter, due out soon.**

**To princess:**  
**Now you know what Bruce's dicision is! Thanks for the reveiw!**


	34. Epilogue

Chapter 34: Epilogue

ONE YEAR LATER

"What's that?" Batman asked Wonder Woman.

She was sitting on the couch in the Watchtower lounge, a spiral notebook in her hand. There was a sketch on it that she had been staring at intently.

"Oh, it's just a doodle that Flash had made," she said solemnly.

She handed the book to Batman and he eyed it for a few seconds. It seemed to be a drawing of a woman in Flash's costume. The bust was oversized and the heels were too high… typical Wally.

"He made this a long time ago," she explained. "It was right after some annoying television person had made a comment about my armor. He drew this up to show me what I would look like as _Mrs. Flash."_

Batman handed it back.

"I think you'd look good in a red body suit."

She looked back at the drawing, with a little more interest.

"Actually," she admitted, taking a sip of her iced mocha, "I rather like the idea. I don't like the mask and I think I'd remove the sleeves… maybe even cut my hair… but it's a good look."

Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew even sadder.

Batman sat next to her and gently placed his hand on her knee.

"I miss him, too," he said quietly. "We all do. But we'll find him."

The two heroes sat silently for a moment, thinking of their missing comrade. Before long, they were both summoned to the Monitor Womb.

Superman and J'onn were watching several monitors, each showing various news outlets. The theme of each station was the same; the President of the United States was addressing Congress and pressing for a declaration of war.

"I still don't see how that man was elected," Superman was saying as Wonder Woman and Batman entered. "I should have stopped it."

"You allowed the people to speak," J'onn tried to console his colleague.

"The people were fooled!" Clark spat back. "They didn't know what they were doing."

"I didn't vote for him," Batman admitted as he and Diana stopped to watch the coverage.

"I'm glad you're here," J'onn told them. "Things have gotten much worse. President Luthor has supplied the Congress with selected forms of evidence that suggest that meta-powered humans, and _us_ in particular, are a clear and present danger to the United States. He is also trying to convince other leaders throughout the world to join him in his fight."

Superman's clenched fists grew tighter.

"He has called," J'onn continued, "for us to send a representative to address these accusations in an open session of the Congress. I believe the three of you should accept the…"

He was cutoff by a break in the news. One by one, each monitor switched over to live coverage on the steps of the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. There, under a blood-stained tarp, lay a body. The red arm and boot sticking out from under the covers was clearly recognizable.

"Flash!" Batman whispered.

Diana's hand shot up to her mouth.

Clark turned and stormed out of the room.

THE END


End file.
